Claimed
by AngelBurn6
Summary: 'She didn't know why she decided to follow this particular group, but it was the best decision she had made in a long time. If only she could figure out why the kid in the sheriff hat hated her so much.' Based off the episode 'Claimed'. Slight AU / CarlXOC
1. Chapter 1

**I figured I'd try writing a fic about my all time favorite show, so I'm not sure how well this will go ^.^ **

**I don't own TWD except the OC.**

**Hope you like it! **

* * *

It was astounding how different the world was now.

Actually, that was the biggest understatement of the century, Ashley mused as she shifted her position squatting against the dirty plane of glass between her and the outside world. It was dusty and grimy, covered with a layer of dirt that only could accumulate after two years of not being washed. Who cared about clean windows anymore?

She watched the scene with curious golden eyes. Rarely had she run into living, breathing people in the past month, and there she was, hiding out in a house while observing a handful of people entering the abandoned one across the street.

"This is gonna be interesting," Ashley muttered to herself, her voice a faint sound in the darkened room. Not two hours earlier had she seen another group of three take temporary residence inside. Two had left, and she would have assumed they only stayed for the night, if the last one, a thin, injured looking man hadn't stayed behind.

'Probably out looking for supplies,' Ashley realized. She was relieved the boisterous team of men hadn't raided the house she was in, but if that man didn't get out soon, or if the other two arrived back too early…things were going to get exciting _very _quickly.

She dropped back on her haunches. The little room smelled of mold, but she was too lazy to look for the food that was probably left behind a while back. Yeah, like a bad smell would bother her now. The world went to shit, a little mold was the least of her problems.

With a sigh, her gloved hand found its way into her backpack, filled with bottles of water and a few snacks she scavenged. Her knives were resting at the bottom, each of them sheathed in a leather case.

It came naturally to her as she pulled each one out and sharpened them, listening to the sound of the blades, her breathing, and the faint sound of the shouting men across the street.

'Poor guy,' she thought sympathetically, thinking of the scruffy man trapped in the house. Normally, she never thought twice about the fate of another, not in this world, but she saw something she hadn't seen in a very long time.

The group of three, before the two went off down the street, seemed…bonded. Like they've faced horrors together and trusted each other with their life. Trust was rare nowadays. You trust someone, you die, at least that's what Ashley was accustomed to.

But that group contained the type of people you'd want on your side, and Ashley found herself dreading the moment she'd hear the gunshot, signaling the end of the man's life.

She began humming to herself, a sad, slow tune her mother used to sing to her when Ashley was little...and when she was still alive. Her family was gone, and slowly, the hurt was fading. The lullaby was the only way she could remember her past.

The small bedroom was dusty, scattered with various objects from the shelves. Another group had obviously raided it, though they probably wouldn't find anything since the room used to belong to a toddler.

Ashley felt her chest clench at the sight of the empty crib, one that used to be slept on by a little baby boy. What a sad, horrible world this was if new life was taken away in the blink of an eye. She could almost-

_BANG BANG_

She jumped, sitting up to peer out of the window as her heart sunk. What surprised her, was that the man she assumed was dead, was sprinting down the street with his two comrades, frantically telling them to go the other way before getting discovered.

'Stealth mode activated,' she internally chuckled. In a sudden decision, Ashley found herself hastily packing her things, stuffing her knives back in her bag while simultaneously placing another in the waistband of her dirty jeans. Sheathed, of course. She wasn't stupid.

Tossing away her previous plans to reside there for the night, she rushed out the back door, jumping through backyards to catch up to the retreating group. She ignored the mental alarms going off in her head. Strangers were bad. Being alone is better. Despite the echoing words, Ashley continued to keep an eye out for the three.

'Let's hope this doesn't get me killed,' she thought to herself.

* * *

"What happened?" Carl demanded his father once they paused to rest a few streets away. He took off his hat, running a hand across his sweaty face as they doubled over.

"Another group," Rick panted, holding his side. "I was asleep in the bedroom and they got in."

"So much for resting," Michonne mumbled, doing her best to help Rick find a place to sit. Carl sighed, his head dropping back to stare up at the sky. It swirled blue, hints of an upcoming sunset peeking over the horizon. It seemed like such a beautiful day, promises of a new one soon to come, but he knew better. You never knew if you were guaranteed a new day.

And now seriously wasn't the time to be admiring the sky.

"So what do we do now?" Carl wondered. "We need a place to stay."

"I don't want to be in this neighborhood with that group in there," Rick shook his head. "There were at least six of 'em. Reckless and violent, too."

Michonne peered down the road with sharp, dark eyes. Carl thought back to their conversation earlier, and his chest tightened. Michonne was a _mother_. She had a family before the world ended. For some reason, Carl always assumed she was warrior-type since the beginning. With her katana and fearless personality, Michonne was a force to be reckoned with. But he discovered a side of her he'd never seen. She was so _normal_ before all of this.

Well, no one is normal now. God knows how much _he _had changed since he was twelve and innocent.

"I saw a map of the town in one of the houses," Michonne supplied. "There's another neighborhood just past that forest."

"Maybe one of us shoul-"

"We are _not_ splitting up again," Carl spat, cutting off his dad. He almost lost him once, he wasn't about to lose him again.

They eyed each other for a moment, Carl staring sternly up into the blue eyes that he knew matched his own. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his eyes.

"Alright," Rick nodded, looking calm, yet determined. "Let's move."

* * *

The trees loomed overhead, casting dark shadows everywhere. It was a surprisingly dense forest, filled with thick-trunked oaks and maples. Twigs snapped rhythmically beneath their shoes, a sound Carl focused on.

The three kept a watchful eye as they swiftly moved, and Carl felt the back of his neck tense like he felt eyes on him.

"Let's take a break," Rick suggested. He was wheezing, his lungs releasing a strange sound. He was still deeply injured after all. Travelling was definitely not the best choice for him, but what other option did they have?

They stopped in a clearing, bits of sunlight filtering through the leaves above them, swaying in the breeze. It would be dark soon, and they needed to get out of the forest quickly.

Carl collapsed onto the grass, taking the water bottle Michonne offered him with a smile. He took a sip, not knowing how long it would be until they got more supplies.

'Just a little rest,' Carl sighed in his mind, cushioning the back of his head with his backpack. A little rest wouldn't hurt, and this bag is so comfortable…

Rick was laying down, eyes shut in a rare moment of serenity. Michonne was off to the side, surveying their surroundings.

Carl's mind drifted, like it oftentimes did. His little sisters face entered his vision, making his eyes burn and fists clench. He should have been _watching _her. Judith was the only thing that seemed good in this world now. Even if she was growing up in hell, Carl saw her as a sign that everything would be better soon. They'd find peace. They could stop running. He'd get to watch his _beautiful_ baby sister grow up.

He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining what their life could be if Walkers never existed. He'd get home from school, greeting his mom and dad in the kitchen, as little Judith hobbled into the room with bright blue eyes. Everything would be _perfect._ Michonne and all the others would be there too, of course, since he could no longer imagine his life without them. They would-

A strangled cry jolted him from his daydreaming. His eyes shot open in alarm.

"Walkers!" Rick shouted, struggling to get up. His mind went into autopilot. Carl hopped to his feet, seeing Michonne tackled by two Walkers, wriggling on the forest floor. Her sword was flung several feet away. Though he was aware how capable Michonne was, he didn't think her chances were very good while being pinned and weaponless.

His hand found the gun strapped to his side, preparing to pull it out and shoot the undead attackers with two well-placed shots in the brain, when bony, rotting fingers wrapped around his torso from behind.

"Carl!" Rick shouted in distress. He was fighting off his own Walkers with a large rock. More and more of them seemed to hobble into the clearing, the rays of the dying sun illuminating their decaying flesh.

It was at that moment that panic began to set into Carl's chest. He pulled away from the one grabbing him before its teeth came close, swinging the butt of the pistol into the Walker's temple and hearing the sickening crack of its skull caving in. It collapsed at his feet, but three more seemed to replace it.

Carl backed up, eyes glancing across the clearing to see how well the others were faring. His heart sunk.

Rick had used all his strength by bashing the Walker's heads in, but he was too far away from Michonne who was _still _without her katana. She was fending off the Walkers with sheer strength, along with a little luck, but one of them, with gray matted hair and a missing arm, came _inches _from her shoulder.

"Michonne!" Carl screamed, shooting one right between the eyes before it got too close. The deafening sound of the gun only seemed to attract more.

_Where did they even come from!? Shitshitshit._

A faint whirring sound was somehow heard over the groans and grunts of the Walkers, and then the sound of a knife being plunged into the skull of the one above Michonne.

Carl's eyes widened. 'How did-?'

Another knife went right through the other one, and Carl saw it that time. It flew through the trees with alarming accuracy.

"Michonne!" Carl shouted again. She pushed the limp bodies off of her, catching her breath for only a second before diving for her katana and slicing the head of a Walker clean off. Its skull bounced to the forest floor with a thud, jaw still snapping. Carl hurried to reload his gun as more came at him, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Another knife spiraled in, slicing straight into the brain of the Walker in front of him. His head swiveled to the right, seeing a girl come rushing into the clearing. Carl watched her from the corner of his eye as he shot and bashed Walkers in the head.

The girl weaved, dodged, and killed the Walkers left and right, whipping various knives from her bag with a flick of her wrist. She slid between the legs of a hobbling Walker, obtaining a blade from the skull of a fallen one, before hopping up and slashing it through its temple.

A groan was heard behind him alerting Carl of the presence of another Walker. He spun around, raising his gun to shoot the rest of the undead right between the eyes. They fell to the ground.

After what seemed like forever, the attacks ceased. The herd was down.

* * *

Ashley caught her breath, gripping the handle of her last knife and tugging it from a zombie skull. It slid out after two harsh tugs, and she cleaned it off on her pants. She was almost too nervous to face the group in front of her, as stupid as it sounded.

She was about to stand up when she saw a gun was aimed at her face, held by the young boy with piercing blue eyes.

"Who are you?" he growled.

She didn't answer. Tension hung in the air, along with the rotting scent of the dead bodies surrounding the clearing.

Why was he pissed? Ashley was incredulous. She just saved their sorry asses. They would've been dead if she hadn't stepped in. Granted, she wasn't planning on revealing herself until later, but if she didn't do _something_, the group of three would not have come out of this forest alive.

"Carl," the injured man got to his feet, dropping his rock in the process.

'Didn't he have a real weapon?' Ashley ruminated. The boy- Carl?- continued to point the gun in her face. He glared at her, and the silly cowboy hat somehow seemed to work for him, making him look a little menacing.

"Where did you come from?"

"She saved us," a new voice spoke. Ashley peered at the dark-skinned woman as she walked closer. "I don't think the girl deserves a weapon in her face."

Carl hesitated, giving her one more warning look, before placing his gun back in its holster. He huffed and stepped back. Geez, he should probably relax a bit…

"What's your name?" the man asked, sounding kinder than the kid. His blue eyes shined through his dirty face. Huh, he was probably the kid's father; they had the same eyes.

She paused, placing her knives back in her bag before standing up. She regarded the group as a whole, maintaining her pride. The best-case scenario: they let her follow them. Worst…well, she guessed being killed in the middle of the woods was a pretty sucky way to die in this world.

"My name's Ashley. And I followed you since you left that house when the group raided it," her voice came out clear, despite her heart thudding hard in her chest. Hey, honesty would probably be the best choice at the moment, and it wasn't as if she could come up with a sorry excuse on the spot.

"Are you in a group?" the man asked, well, more like demanded.

"No."

"How long were you alone for?"

"Three weeks," she answered. She caught sight of the boy widening his eyes behind his dad.

"Dad, we can't-"

"Well, Ashley," he continued, cutting Carl off, "My name is Rick Grimes, and I only have three questions to ask you."

* * *

**Hope you liked it! If you didn't already know, this story is based off of the end of the episode 'Claimed', hence the title. This was just a test chapter, I guess, so if you really want me to continue, let me know! If this doesn't get too many reviews, well it was fun to write the first chapter anyways!:) **

**Review please? vv**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks you all for your reviews and favorites. I hope you know how much they mean to me:)**

**I don't own anything TWD related.**

**Enjoy! vv**

* * *

"We _don__'__t _need another person," Carl spat. He kicked the ground, watching the few leaves and grass fly forward a few inches. He was beyond frustrated."We should be focusing on finding the others, not…getting more members!"

"I understand where you're coming from," Michonne nodded, "but your father knows what he's doing. The girl seems pretty capable."

"We're _fine_ on our own," Carl shook his head. "She's just another mouth to feed."

He was aware of Michonne's eyes on him, most likely surprised by his outburst. Honestly, he didn't even know where these feelings were coming from. Although he wasn't really on board with more members in the first place, he never reacted so…strongly against the idea. Michonne was right though; the girl _was _pretty capable.

He watched his dad across the clearing question her. Her expression remained impassive, with a few curt nods here and there. Black hair hung down her back, a few strands falling into her face. She didn't seem that much older than him.

Rick turned around, facing Carl and Michonne. He walked close, eyes trained to the ground. He definitely looked better with his cleaner white shirt, healed.

"I think we should let her join us," he began. "She knows her way around this town, and she can contribute."

"You think that's a good idea?" Michonne wondered.

'No,' Carl internally huffed.

"We'll see what happens." Rick motioned the girl over. "You said you know your way around town?"

Her head bobbed in accordance. "Yeah. I raided a couple old grocery stores. They should have more supplies."

He considered her, running a hand across the scruff on his chin.

New people were dangerous. New people got you killed. The mantra was not forgotten to Carl, and no matter what his father and Michonne decided to do with her, he would _not _let this girl ruin their chances of survival, knife throwing or not.

He shook his head, walking off a few feet to leave the conversation. This was absolutely stupid. What was his dad thinking? After all their experience with strangers in this apocalyptic world, he figured befriending some little girl was a good idea? Right.

Carl dropped his head back, blinking up at the leafy canopy above. The sunlight was dying, a few more beams filtering through. They had to move soon, or face the threat of unseen Walkers lingering in the forest.

He felt a pang in his chest suddenly, overcome with sudden emotion. It had only been days since the attack at the prison, only a few mere days since he'd last seen the group. _Their_ group. They were more like family, but now the chances were they all died in the attack.

"Carl," Rick spoke, shaking him from his darkening thoughts. He was in a somber mood now as he turned to face his father. They were preparing to go. The girl, Ashley, stood to the side, her arms crossed in front of her.

"Let's go."

* * *

Patience was never one of her strong suits. Neither were uncomfortable silences. It was ironic, since she should have been used to the deafening silence now that the word ended. She hadn't talked to a human in a while, and she found she missed it more than she cared to admit.

As the four of them trekked through the darkened forest, the only sounds were the snapping of twigs and the crisp crunch of leaves under their shoes. She kept a sharp ear open for any approaching Zacks.

That was what she found herself calling them now. Two weeks prior, Ashley had broke into an old convenience store, scavenging for food. After one initial sweep, she figured the building was empty, and dug through the shelves.

A faint groan was heard down the aisle, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she spun around. It had been closer than she thought, hobbling toward her with a distinguished limp. It used to be an overweight, middle-aged man, a tattered and bloody uniform adorning its rotting torso.

She pulled a knife from her boot with practiced ease, and with a flick of her wrist, the blade was lodged into its forehead. The thump as it hit the ground was loud.

When Ashley walked to retrieve her knife, she noticed the nametag.

_Hi, my name is Zack_ was written in what used to be bold red print.

'He worked here,' she had realized, gripping the handle and dislodging the blade.

Ever since then, she had dubbed all of the undead as a Zack. It stuck with her.

Back to the forest, Ashley glanced up and noticed the clearing up ahead.

"We're close," she announced, her pace quickening just the slightest bit. Soon, they'd find food and shelter and hopefully settle for the night.

The sun finally set, bathing the small, abandoned town in darkness. It was easy to find a house. There were several of them lining every street that looked to be untouched by Zacks. Ashley figured the people who lived here had evacuated before many of them were overcome with them. It was good for them: it meant fewer chances of Zacks appearing.

An hour later, after the man, Rick, secured a medium-sized house, was when Ashley actually felt safe for the first time in a while.

They retired into the living room after finding several blankets from the bedrooms upstairs. She claimed one, finding a small armchair that she immediately curled up in. Her eyes felt heavy, especially with the flames dancing in the fireplace. They reflected off the walls hypnotically.

The three of them talked quietly on the other side of the room, occasionally shooting glanced at her, which she pretended not to notice. She was too damn tired to converse with them.

With a final, deep sigh, Ashley found herself drifting into a semi-peaceful sleep, something she hadn't done since this all started.

* * *

_ Screams._

_ It was the only thing she could hear. Who was screaming? Everything was shaking, the world was spinning._

_ Make it stop._

_ The groans continued on, and the scent of rotting, decaying flesh nearly suffocated her._

_ Just shut your eyes. It__'__ll be okay._

_ Dead fingers fumbled with her pant leg__…__reaching__…__ Can__'__t let them get me__…_

_ No._

_"__Ashley, close your eyes.__"_

_ She listened. What else could she do? More screams. The smell got stronger._

_ Please, make it stop._

_ A particular scream caught her attention. She opened her eyes._

_ NO! MOM!_

_ She was alone, now. Make it stop. Oh God, make it stop._

_ She curled up, wrapping around her knees with shaking arms. Dead fingers reached for her body, and the moans drifted from below._

_ She drowned in her own screams._

* * *

"Hey! Wake up, dammit."

Ashley jolted up, her neck moist with perspiration and her breath short. It took a second to register her surroundings. The living room, the dying fire.

The kid with the hat was scowling at her from his position next to her couch.

"You were screaming in your sleep," he scolded sternly. "Are you _trying_ to attract Walkers?"

The judgment in his tone made her defensive, and she sat up straighter.

"What's your deal?" she demanded. She was tired of his cold attitude toward her. His dad and Michonne were accepting enough. Sure, they didn't engage in conversation, but it's not like they looked at her like some damn nuisance, like this kid did.

"I'm _trying_ to survive," he spat. Carl returned to his initial position at the other couch, plopping down on the blankets. "I don't need your stupid dreams getting us killed."

Ashley rubbed her eyes and looked around the empty room. "Where are they?"

"Going on a supply run. They told me to stay here with you."

'Ah,' she realized. 'That's why he's so pissy this morning.'

"I don't need a babysitter," she crossed her arms across her chest.

"You think I don't know that?" his eyes shot over to her, narrowed in frustration. He groaned and then stood up, leaving the room without another word to her. Well, so much for that…

She sighed, leaning back against the couch. She didn't mean to scream. She's been having the same nightmare for the past few weeks, and they seemed to just get worse night after night.

Sunlight streamed in through the crack in the curtains, alerting Ashley of the time of day. She wondered what their next move would be. What did this group even plan to do? Did they prefer to move every night? Did they want to find a house to set down roots and stay? She _did _remember hearing Carl mention finding others. Maybe that was their incentive.

Before she could relax against the dusty cushions of the couch, she heard something. A scratching noise at the front door.

_Shit._

Her spine stiffened, eyes darting down the hall. She didn't even have to think twice about reaching down into her bag and gripping the worn handles of her trusty knives.

Ashley carefully stood up, walking toward the chipped white door with clenched muscles. They needed to get rid of this Zack before its scratching attracted others.

The scraping ceased, causing Ashley to pause in the hall.

Her brows furrowed. Did she imagine that? It was hard to tell sometimes. For all she knew, she had been going crazy this whole time.

"Leave it alone," a voice spoke behind her. "It should leave after a few minutes if we're quiet."

Carl had his gun in his hand as he moved beside her, eyes trained on the door separating them from the Zack.

"You sure?"

He rolled his eyes. "Just go back in the living room and don't make any noises, okay?"

She huffed, turning on her heel and striding back to the worn couch. She didn't do it because the kid told her to, she just didn't feel the need to linger by the door. He wasn't the boss of her.

Carl entered the room after a moment, plopping down on the rug and checking his bag filled with more guns and ammo. It was clear his mood still hadn't sobered up since she joined them the day before. His shoulders were tense beneath his plaid shirt, and he still wouldn't look in her direction.

'Whatever,' she thought. 'If he was going to be stubborn, so be it.'

Did he think she would betray them or something? Sure there were some sick people in the world nowadays, but trust was important, too. It was impossible to survive on your own, that much was evident. Ashley prepared herself every single day she was alone to not see the next one. Solitary life didn't provide hope, and if you didn't have that, what did you have?

A thought struck her about two hours later. They were just sitting in the living room in silence. Talk about boring. Ashley turned to Carl.

"Can they handle the Zack when they come back without attracting more?"

His eyes narrowed in slight confusion and incredulity at her. "You named it?"

"No," she explained, forgetting everyone had their own names for the undead. She heard them call them Walkers. "I call all of them Zacks. Long story."

Carl seemed strangely put off at the thought of her naming the one zombie at the door.

'I guess it bothers him,' she internally shrugged.

"They can handle it," he answered her previous question tersely. "It should be gone soon though."

Another two hours later, and they were both on their feet, tense with apprehension. The scratching and groaning hadn't stopped, even more so, it seemed to increase in volume and consistency, despite them not making a sound in so long.

No words were needed when Ashley met Carl's eye. They looked navy in the slightly dim room, hardened with trepidation. Slowly, she gripped a few knives and followed the boy toward the front door. If they didn't put down the Zack now, who knows how many of them are out there now.

Carl reached a hand out, ready to swing open the door and shoot it in the head with his drawn gun.

Curiously, Ashley leaned left, taking the moment to move away the curtain and peek at the yard.

Her mouth felt suddenly dry.

"Carl, no-!"

Too late.

The door flew open, and Carl pointed his glock 17 with practiced precision, effectively killing the Zack scratching at the door with a loud **_BANG_**.

Ashley could sense the shock run through his body a mere second later at the discovery she just made, too.

The gunshot attracted more of them, all right.

Dozens of Zacks' heads on the street suddenly turned in their direction.

* * *

**Hope you liked this chapter!**

**Pleaseeee review and let me know if you want me to continue. I don't want to keep writing if you don't like it!**

**Love you all~**


	3. Chapter 3

**New chapter! I posted this one a bit earlier than I planned since I finished editing a lot faster, but the next update may not be until the end of the month. Thanks so much for your favorites/reviews! It means so much to me!**

**I don't own TWD or anything familiar except Ashley.**

**Enjoy:)**

* * *

Today was not Carl's day.

The second he flung open the door and put down the Walker, he could not believe his luck.

_Of course_, there would be a herd passing through right when he used his gun. It wasn't just all on him, though; the stupid girl just had to go screaming this morning.

"Shit," he swore, eyes widening as the mass of undead began hobbling toward them. He slammed the door shut again, locked it, and pressed his back up against it.

"We have to get out of here," Ashley said quickly. She hurried to the living room to pack our things. "That door won't hold all of them."

Carl knew she was right, no matter how much he wished she wasn't. If they escaped out the back door, they could sneak over a fence or something to a safer area. Hopefully his dad and Michonne would find them. There was no more time to think about it, they had to move _now_.

"Let's go!" Ashley called from somewhere in the back of the house. Carl ran back and joined her. Her long dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail, out of the way as she grabbed her bag and opened the door.

The yard was fortunately empty of Walkers. Overgrown weeds sprung from the ground, reaching up to Carl's knees and they leapt off the porch steps. He suddenly ran into Ashley's back.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, scowling at the back of her head.

She glanced around in a panicked manner, her ponytail whipping around and nearly hitting him in the face.

"There's no way out."

His head jerked around, surveying the yard. The small fenced in area was inescapable. The chain link fence rose high, topped off with trees they would not be able to climb. No gate. No way out.

"Dammit!" he groaned. They could hear the loud groans and stomps of the Walkers in the front yard; eager to tear into the flesh of the humans they spotted.

Carl had no idea what to do. There was no way out, no way for him to get to his dad and Michonne. His chest filled with panic and frustration.

"Come on," Ashley suddenly ordered. He looked at her incredulously.

"Where?" he waved his arms around, expressing their obvious predicament. "We're kinda stuck, if you haven't noticed."

"We can take them."

Her confidence shocked him to no end. She was either the bravest or most stupid person he had ever met.

"_What_?"

"Let's go!"

Before he knew it, she was back in the house, multiple knives in hand.

Carl swore loudly, rushing to keep up with her. This was crazy. They couldn't take down a whole herd by themselves!

He found her by the front door, putting her bag down and stretching out her muscles. The look in her eyes kind of frightened him a little.

"Look, there's gotta be, what, thirty of them out there? How are we supposed to get them all?" he asked quickly. God, he just wanted Michonne and her badass sword on their side right about now.

"Don't think about it," Ashley shrugged. She suddenly reached into her bag, pulling out two knives and held them out to him. "Here, use these. Don't fire the gun unless you need to."

He took a deep breath, glancing at the shaking door beside them. Shadows of Walkers moved behind the curtains as they scraped and banged on the weakening door. Just a three-inch slab of wood separating them from possible death.

He met her eyes again, seeing them stare into his deeply and determinedly. Carl realized they were silver, like streams of melting snow. They were sharp and unwavering as he reached out and grasped the knives.

Here goes nothing.

She opened the door.

All thoughts left him as soon as his knife plunged into the skull of the first Walker. The only thing on his mind was: kill, don't get bit…

Once the first one was down, three more replaced it. They reached for him, jaws snapping hungrily with rotting flesh hanging off their hollowed cheeks. He felt a sick sort of satisfaction as he kicked one in the stomach and sent it flying back down the steps, knocking down a few of them.

"Get on the street!" Ashley shouted from somewhere on the yard. She was smart to get off the confined space on the porch.

His gripped the knife with a clenched fist, jabbing it up into a Walker's brain with a sickening squelch. He pulled it out, hopping over its fallen corpse and through the throngs of hungry Walkers.

Carl felt his mouth run dry at the sheer magnitude of them. He had never been surrounded by so _many_.

Left, right, behind, they came at him. He let anger fuel him, anger at the thought of never seeing Judith again, how much he had lost because of these disgusting creatures. Blood seemed to soak him to the bone as they spurted from yet another Walker's head. Bodies piled, yet more and more were coming fast.

His hat felt off at some point, and he felt the bony, decaying hands reaching for him.

'It's endless,' he thought disbelievingly. His muscles grew tired after a few minutes, and sweat dripped down his temples. The putrid stench seemed to suffocate him.

At one point, after stabbing a Walker through the head, he misjudged his aim. The blade pierced its nose, going all the way through to the back of its head, but he missed its brain.

"Crap," he muttered through clenched teeth. He was doing so well...

The impaled Walker continued to grunt and reach for him with outstretched arms, stuck from going any further because Carl was holding the knife. It was caught.

He kicked another approaching one frantically when it got too close, knocking it to the cement. Panic set in. He couldn't get the knife out.

"Come on," he breathed, tugging hard on the handle. All it did was yank the Walker ever closer, and it got a hold of his shirt.

It grabbed him with bruising force, no doubt leaving a mark. He pulled harder.

Suddenly, he didn't have to pull any more. The Walker went down, a perfectly placed knife lodged into the side of its head.

Carl glanced up quickly, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and eyes. Ashley stood about twenty feet away, dealing with her own few Walkers after saving his ass for a second time in 24 hours.

He pulled the two knives sticking from the Walker's bloody skull and killed the final three ones surrounding him. He collapsed, dropping to the bloodstained cement in fatigue, trying to catch his breath.

Ashley finished them off easily since the mass of them had lessened greatly. He watched on tiredly.

The knife left her fingertips and lodged into the Walker's head, making it drop to the cement with a thump. The others swarmed her, and Carl would have tried to help if his muscles didn't feel like jelly. She pulled through, using skills undoubtedly learned before this whole apocalypse. You didn't learn freaking ninja moves like that after dealing with a few Walkers. Carl could see how adept she was when it came to close combat.

Seconds later, and it was finished.

Ashley bent over, hands on her knees while she gasped for breath. Blood covered her, soaking her as much as Carl.

He couldn't believe what they had just done. The two of them, just two teenagers, managed to kill over thirty Walkers single-handedly. Even Daryl would be impressed.

Running footsteps approached and Carl picked his head up.

Rick and Michonne entered the scene; full bags in hand and eyes bulging. Rick's eyes flicked between Carl, Ashley, and the piles of bodies littering the street.

"We heard the first gunshot about a mile away and tried to get back," Rick explained. Worry, and what seemed to look like pride, danced across his eyes. "Ran into a couple Walkers on the way. Did you two…do this on your own?"

"Yeah," Carl breathed, finally getting to his feet. His shoulder ached where one of them grabbed him, but otherwise, he felt okay.

"You guys make quite a team," Michonne stated with an impressed tone. She surveyed the street. "Not bad."

Ashley approached him with his hat in hand. Her green tank top was caked with blood and guts, matting down her hair and drying into her skin. Carl had no doubt he looked just as horrific.

"Here, cowboy," she said wryly. Carl peered at her through narrowed eyes. A small smile spread over her lips, and something akin to annoyance seeped into him. Just because they took on a herd together, definitely didn't mean they were buddies now. After all, it _was _her fault they were there in the first place.

"It's a sheriff's hat," he spat, taking the hat back and striding to his dad.

He fought the urge to glance back.

"Should we stay here?" Carl approached his dad and Michonne, eager to find a place to rest. He longed for an icepack and maybe some of that pudding he found a while back. Ooh, that'd be nice.

"I think it's best to move at least a few blocks away," Rick decided. A few splatters of blood decorated his white shirt, and Carl could see how utterly exhausted he was. His dad was still weak, no matter how many times he claimed he completely healed.

"I agree," Michonne nodded, twirling her sheathed sword around. It reminded Carl of Ashley's throwing knives. "We have food already, so let's find a place."

"I'll let her know." And with that, Rick shouldered past Carl to inform Ashley of their plans. He didn't turn his head to look at her.

When he met Michonne's gaze, they were already watching him in a weird, knowing way. Her deep and dark eyes were softened with mirth.

"What?" Carl asked semi-harshly.

"Nothing," she shrugged innocently. A hint of a teasing smile played at her lips, increasing his frustration. Michonne's eyes flicked over his shoulder, immediately hardening again. "We've got company."

Carl looked over, seeing the four…five Walkers hobbling their way down the street.

"Let's move," Rick ordered swiftly. They picked up their bags and half-jogged in the direction of the next street.

* * *

"Look what I found."

The proud, excited voice coming from Michonne shook Ashley from her daze, making her eyes flick up to the entrance of the surprisingly clean kitchen. Ashley almost wanted to laugh at the sight of the battle-hardened badass warrior princess looking positively giddy as she held up a long box. It was a board game.

"Monopoly?" Carl chuckled. "Did you find a GTA, by any chance?"

"I'll pretend I know what that is, but no. Only Monoploy," she teased. "Ready to lose?"

"Bring it on."

Ashley was almost overwhelmed by how different they looked in that moment. They had found this house several streets away from the previous one, where dozens of corpses scattered along the street. This house felt much more secure, and Rick, after the insistence on Michonne's part, was already passed out on a bed upstairs.

Of course, Carl and Ashley insisted on making sure the backyard was escapable first.

Ashley sat on the worn tiled floor, the cold seeping through her bloodstained jeans. She leaned back against the archway leading to the living room, her legs tucked beneath her and she watched the two interrelate with interest.

Something she hadn't seen in them was surfacing, something happy and relaxed. Michonne's shoulders weren't as tense, and most of all, her hard exterior cracked to reveal a large grin and laughing eyes.

Carl, however, was who baffled Ashley the most. She hadn't ever seen him smile before, or better yet, even look anything other than annoyed and frustrated. He looked like a normal kid, she noticed, who slouched at the dinner table and had a quick wit. The way his face softened indefinitely with the smile taking over his features. The blue in his eyes looked nothing like the icy way he glared at her, but more of a soft periwinkle, crinkling in the corners with mirth.

Ashley realized with a jolt how _attractive_ Carl was when he smiled.

Michonne turned her gaze on Ashley all of a sudden; startling her slightly and interrupting her locked gaze on Carl. She felt the tips of her ears burn red, but quickly covered it with her hair.

"You wanna play?" she offered lightly.

And at that moment, Ashley saw from the corner of her eye the way the soft periwinkle hardened to iciness.

"No thanks," she smiled softly. She rose to her feet, feeling the gross sensation of dried blood sticking to her skin through her clothes. "You guys play. I'll look for some clothes upstairs."

She didn't wait another moment as she turned toward the stairs.

Her fingertips grazed the walls as she strolled through the carpeted hall. It was dusty, but no sign of Zacks were apparent.

Framed photos decorated the walls, holding the last evidence of a long forgotten family who were either alive, dead, or Zacks. Ashley knew it was dangerous to sympathize. You couldn't let yourself connect with others who might vey well be dead; it was basically the golden rule in this world.

Because God forbid she came across someone she knew or missed and had no choice but to kill them. It made it harder if you sympathized.

And Ashley learned that the hard way.

* * *

"Looks like you're back in jail," Michonne teased once again. Carl groaned and brought his top hat piece to its imprisonment. Michonne was winning by a landslide, much to his discontent.

"Hey, I haven't played this since I was…what? Twelve?" he defended, but felt the humor rise up in a smile. He missed hanging out with Michonne.

"I haven't played in years either, mister," she shot back sardonically.

"But you've had a lot more time to practice!"

"You calling me old?"

"Duh."

They erupted into laughter, and Carl felt lighter than he had in days. In moments like these, he could pretend they were all back at the prison, safe and together.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they played the game. Carl scratched his forehead, feeling the flakes of dried blood, and he cringed. Geez, he really needed to find some new clothes soon.

"You should give her a chance, you know."

His gaze darted up to meet Michonne's. They were locked on him unwaveringly.

He remained silent, letting his eyes fall onto the wooden table. She continued speaking.

"She's proved herself trustworthy, in my opinion. I don't think you could've gotten out of that house on your own, no offense."

"But she's the one who drew them in the first place!" Carl debated.

"I'm sure she feels bad about it," Michonne's voice was cool and soothing. "You should at least get to know her if you don't trust her so much. We all should."

Carl frowned. "It's not that I don't trust her, exactly…"

Michonne looked interested he what he had to say, but he should his head.

"Nevermind. I don't know…"

Silence fell over them yet again.

Carl thought deeply. He didn't trust Ashley initially, just like he rarely trusted anyone nowadays, but Michonne had a point. When they ran into that herd, she could have bolted and left him for dead. No, she stayed by his side and fought. She didn't have his full trust, but she did earn his respect.

"Hi."

They glanced up to see the person of his thoughts standing in the doorway. She looked sheepish.

"You mind if I sit with you guys?"

"Sure," Michonne nodded, sharing a look with Carl.

Ashley pulled up an old wooden chair and plopped down, crossing her arms over her new shirt. Her grimy green tank top was replaced with a clean looking gray one.

"I found some new clothes you could wear," she informed Michonne quietly. She glanced at Carl. "A boy used to live here, too. You could use one of his clothes, too."

"Thanks," he muttered. She was trying, he suddenly noticed. She was trying hard to be on their side and get along. He felt a little bad for being so harsh earlier.

"You want to play?" Michonne repeated her previous question, but Ashley shook her head.

"No, thanks, ma'am."

"Ooh, ma'am," she smirked. "No one's been that proper to me since-"

"The world ended?" Carl supplied.

"Basically."

He could see the hints of a smile gracing Ashley's features at their dialogue.

"I miss that politeness, honestly," Michonne continued absently, playing with her fake Monopoly money. "Chivalry is long gone."

"I miss having candy," Carl sighed. He had always had a bit of a sweet tooth. "Dad used to sneak me a chocolate bar before dinner before Mom noticed."

Michonne glanced at Ashley expectantly. She chuckled.

"I miss my kedama."

Carl jerked his head toward her, eyes bright.

"You had a kedama?"

"Am I supposd to know what that is?" Michonne asked with a grin.

"It's a Japanese toy I was obsessed with when I was younger," Carl answered. He remembered all those times he played with the little toy after school, and his mom would scold him to no end.

"I loved it," Ashley continued on wistfully. "I wasn't that much of a girly girl, even before this whole thing started. I loved video games and comic books."

"So does this boy here," Michonne motioned toward him. He stared at Ashley for a moment, feeling like he was seeing her for the first time. It was still her fault for the herd coming, but maybe, just maybe, their group could use someone like her. It's been a while since Carl had talked to someone his age, after all...

'Hm, I wonder if she played Minecraft, too...'

* * *

**Yay they're starting to get along-ish! :) I really hope you guys liked this chapter, it was a bit longer than the others too. **

**I got a DM asking how old Ashley is in this story, and I decided to make her about sixteen. I know Carl is supposed to be 14 in this season, but I'm making his birthday pass a little recently, so now he's officially 15! Hey, they don't really keep track of dates during the apocalypse, so you never know:)**

**Thanks for reading and pleaseeee review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Updated before the end of the month so yay:) This chapter is about as long as the last one. I'm trying to make them all this long now. **

**Did you guys watch the finale last night? Hooolyyy shit 0.o **

**Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_Terror flooded her body. Her blood felt like ice in her veins, and she suddenly felt numb, numb to everything surrounding her._

_"Ashley!__"_

_ The familiar, panicked voice pierced her, and she swiveled her head to the left. Nothing. There was nothing to her right either._

_"Dylan!__" she shrieked into the night. The darkness felt tangible, smothering her in its eerie blackness. She was drowning in it._

_ The world shifted, making her dizzy. Once she could open her eyes again, he was standing there, right in front of her. _

_"Dyl?__" the words came out as a whisper._

_ The stormy eyes that matched her own were wide with terror, bloodshot. His clothes were dirty, caked with dirt and blood. He looked just like he had the last time she saw him._

_ When he spoke, it sounded like an echo in her mind. She could barely make out his voice in the blaring silence, something that baffled her._

_"The basement, Ash. Don__'t go in the basement.__"_

_ Suddenly, he was ripped away, and it was only darkness again. Always darkness._

* * *

She shot up with a gasp. Sweat glistened on her temples, and she wiped away the perspiration with a trembling hand. A dream. Just another dream.

They were nightly now. The same one every single day, with her trapped in an endless emptiness. Once in a while she'd get a glimpse of the last time she had seen her parents, but that last one…it was the first time she dreamed of _him_.

"Who's Dylan?"

Ashley squeaked in surprise, turning her head to see Carl sitting on the couch across the room, eyes trained steadily on her in curiosity.

She scrubbed at her face tiredly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to talk in my sleep again."

His eyebrows furrowed in his studying of her, something that made her skin tickle with goose bumps.

She purposefully avoided his question. Fortunately, he seemed to realize that as well, and dropped the subject.

"I'm gonna find something to eat," she announced, standing up and striding toward the kitchen. Carl nodded and leaned back on the couch, eyes shut.

The tiles in the kitchen felt cold, even through her dirty socks. Sunlight breached past the half-drawn curtains, warming her cheeks. It was getting warmer outside.

"Morning," Rick greeted at her arrival. He was leaning against the counter, spooning some soup into his mouth while looking out into the front yard with watchful eyes. He turned to face her. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," she lied.

It was like a routine now. Rick was an early riser, Ashley noticed right away. He'd get up at practically sunrise; setting up whatever food they had for everyone's breakfast. Michonne would usually get up next, so Ashley figured she was either upstairs or in the backyard or something.

They had been residing in the house for a week now, simply living on cans of soup and bottles of water without getting into trouble with any Zacks. A few wandered out in the front, but luckily, none came close enough to be a problem.

Ashley opened up the cabinet they kept the food in, feeling her belly grumble with hunger. "No food?"

Rick shrugged. "There's not much left. I was gonna go out with Mich-"

"I'll go," she interrupted. "I need to get out of this house for a bit. It's getting a little stuffy, don't you think?"

His lips quirked up a bit, but he nodded. "Alright. When are you ready to go?"

Ashley grinned wryly. "Now."

* * *

"That one?" Ashley suggested, motioning toward a simple, pale yellow house that seemed safe enough.

"Looks as good as any. Let's check it out," Rick nodded. His gaze drifted over the empty street as a precaution, and they quickly hurried up the steps.

She was used to this, scavenging, searching for food. Hell, she'd done it on her own for weeks. Now, though, it was nice to know she wasn't alone. She felt better knowing someone had her back.

They checked upstairs first. The last thing they needed was a Zack to sneak up on them while looking for food.

Her knives we secure in hand as she opened a pink painted door at the end of the hall.

Her mouth ran dry and her heart stopped.

"Shit," she muttered.

It was a baby's room. A girl, by the looks of it. An innocent, little baby, stuck in a world that went to hell. Blood was splattered on the floor, next to the little crib in the center of the room.

A crib her little baby sister or brother could have slept in if this world hadn't happened.

"Ashley."

She jumped at the hand on her shoulder, making her blink the tears that unknowingly formed away. Rick's saddened blue eyes met her own. "I know it's sad to see such new life get taken away-"

"You don't know _anything_," she spat. A shaky hand wiped away the tears spilling down her cheeks. Something sharp pierced her chest, suddenly making it hard to breathe.

_Calm down_.

She couldn't.

The sight of the crib triggered an unwanted memory stored deep in her mind. It was something she tried so hard to forget. She _couldn__'t _let herself think about it.

Then why were the words spilling from her mouth?

"I was supposed to have a baby sibling, did you know that?"

Rick shook his head.

Ashley sniffed, her heart heavy, and continued. "A beautiful, little baby."

_"Honey, get away from the edge!__"_

_ Ashley nodded frantically, crawling closer to the center of the roof of the van. The groans were deafening around them, and fingers reached out for her feet._

_"Mom,__" she screamed over the lifeless moans. The van was shaking beneath her, making her off-balance. __"Come here!__"_

_ Her mother tried to crawl closer, her very pregnant belly making the feat a little more difficult. They needed to keep her safe. They had to keep the baby safe._

_ Her father was fending off the dead hands reaching for him with a bloody, metal bat. The sickening cracks as it crunched their skulls made Ashley__'s stomach roll, but it was barely audible over the loud growls._

_"Damn it!__" her dad shouted, One of them got a hold of his shoe, pulling him down and closer to the edge. His bat was missing.  
__"John!__" her mom called out in a panic. _

_ He was being pulled down, until his legs were completely over the edge. Screams ripped from his throat as they tore into the flesh of his calves and feet. He gripped frantically for anything to save him._

_ Including her mom__'s foot._

_ Ashley curled into a ball, watching in horror as he dragged her mother down with him, into the endless mass of flesh-eating monsters._

_"Mom!__" she screamed. _

_The world would not stop shaking. _

"And my asshole of a father killed both of them," she finished off bitingly; her clenched fists left crescent moon shapes into her fleshy palms. She raised her gaze to meet Rick's. "So _don__'t _tell me you understand."

It took a few moments to catch her breath and calm down. All that bottled up emotion and hate, spilling out to a man she only met a week prior. She always tried so hard to forget it. Ashley knew you could only survive if you put your past behind you and carried on with a stony face. She _knew _she'd be able to do it.

Until she opened the door to that damn crib.

"Carl had a baby sister."

Her eyes rose again, wide with surprise. "What?" she whispered.

He bit his lip, looking out the window next to him. Ashley suddenly noticed how weary he looked. How sad and broken of a man he was. Rick did a better job at hiding it than she ever could.

"My wife died in labor. We've been taking care of my daughter ever since," continued. His tone was quiet. "Walkers got to her about a month ago."

His blue gaze burned into hers. "So yeah, I actually _do _understand."

All she could do was slowly nod. Suddenly, her face crumpled, and she rushed forward, hugging him.

She felt the jolt of surprise running through him at the feeling of her arms wrapped around him, but it quickly passed. He slowly raised his arms, covering her shoulders loosely.

"I guess we've all been through hell, huh?" she pulled back, wiping away her runny nose.

He smiled softly. "Wouldn't be the apocalypse if we hadn't."

* * *

It was about noon when Ashley and Rick came across the tree on their way back to the house.

Her arms were already tired from the bags of food she was carrying, a complaint she wouldn't dare make. They hit the jackpot in that house. A whole cabinet, stock full of unrefrigerated foods that had no expiration date passed. Cookies, pretzels, Gatorades, chocolate bars, more soup…

Ashley couldn't wait to get home and share the chocolate with Carl.

"Look at that," Rick pointed out. She glanced up, squinting through the sunlight trickling through the leaves and branches.

He reached out and plucked something from a low branch, holding it out for her to observe. A shining, deep red fruit. "Apple tree."

It was something so small, such a little, insignificant object, that Ashley saw as something akin to a miracle now. They both grinned.

"I'd pick a bunch to add to our stash, but my arms already feel like jelly," Ashley chuckled.

Rick's eyes hardened, looking at something over her shoulder. "We'll come back later, we've got company anyway."

She looked over, seeing the lone, hobbling Zack limping down the street. It was far enough away to not be a threat.

"We've gotta show Carl this," Ashley spoke as they jogged down the street again. She glanced back to steal another look at the beautiful apple tree. "Michonne, too."

She didn't miss the smirk cross over his features. "Seems like you two get along now."

Ashley prayed her cheeks weren't burning as she replied. "We had a lot more in common than we thought."

"I've noticed," he nodded. "I'm glad he has you, Ashley. He's needed a friend his age."

His tone bordered on suggestive, but she fought to ignore it.

Ashley peered at Rick from the corner of her eye as they neared their designated home. He still limped from a recent injury, but he carried on strongly. She could see the good in him still, and goodness was something that deteriorated quickly in this world, but she could see it.

Carl was lucky to have a father like him.

* * *

Carl and Michonne's conversation in the kitchen froze to a halt when Ashley unloaded her duffel bag onto the table, spilling its contents across it. She was delighted to see the look of awe cross over their faces, especially Carl's.

It was a cute look on him.

"Well, I'll be damned," Michonne murmured, picking up a container of Oreos. "That girl should go on all the runs from now on."

"All this from one house?" Carl asked with wide eyes. His father nodded.

"Looks like whoever was last there didn't grab everything."

"I don't know about you, but I'm eating this entire thing in the living room and you can't stop me," Michonne smiled, picking up the Oreos and a Gatorade before heading out of the room.

"We ain't stopping you," Rick chuckled. He patted Carl's shoulder, a gesture Ashley found sweet, before walking out himself.

Then, it was just the two of them.

She wasn't sure if she should say something first. It wasn't often Ashley found herself being nervous. Who could worry about boys when you had to watch your back for flesh eating Zacks? Nevertheless, her chest tightened with _something _when he glanced up at her under the brim of his hat.

"Do you wear that thing everywhere?" she motioned toward his head awkwardly, internally cringing. _Smooth, Ash_.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. "Usually."

She couldn't contain the relief when their conversations had stopped being strained. For days, it was difficult to get anything other than a disapproving glare from the kid. He'd seemingly hated her ever since she arrived. It was until they sat at this very table a week prior and talked about their old life did Carl seem to lighten up.

Like she told his father, they _did_ have a lot in common. She could see them being friends if the world were normal.

"I have a surprise for you," she sat down across from him, hands busying themselves in a pocket of her duffel. He looked on curiously.

"Seriously?" he gasped. She watched his cyan eyes light up with glee before he slowly held a hand out for the chocolate bar.

"Seriously."

He laughed, a genuine, wholehearted laugh that made the coil in her chest tighten even more.

He bit into the rich chocolate, a moan escaping his throat from the taste. Ashley enjoyed the look of pure happiness radiating from him.

"Thanks, Ashley," he smiled through the mess of chocolate in his teeth.

"Wipe your face, dork," she shook her head.

She waited as he finished up his snack.

"Oh, by the way," she began. "Your dad and I passed this apple tree on our run. Wanna check it out tomorrow?"

Carl wiped the melted chocolate before peering out the window. The sun was still up. Noon.

He looked back with a wry grin. "Who says we can't go now?"

The damn coil in her chest was starting to piss her off.

* * *

"I can't believe your dad let us go," Ashley commented as she pulled her knife from the Zack's punctured skull. It was the same one hobbling after her and Rick earlier that morning.

"He knows we can take care of ourselves," Carl replied stiffly. "He doesn't control me."

She noticed he changed the subject to himself.

Ashley could always sense the tension between the two. Their relationship was stressed, and despite the care Rick had for his son, Carl was not as responsive.

"Don't be so hard on him," she said, thinking of her own father. She'd give anything to have a better one, anything to have one like Rick. "You're lucky."

She could feel his gaze on her.

"Wh-"

"Look!" she interrupted. "The tree."

She grabbed his arm and tugged him so they were beside the bark of the medium-sized tree. Glancing up through the patches of sunlight, Ashley could stop for a moment and forget everything. It was so peaceful; standing in the sun, smelling the sweet scent of ripe apples, the warmth of Carl right beside her…

"No way…"

Her eyes popped open at Carl's low voice, filled with disbelief.

"What? What is it?"

He pointed across the street. "Did you see that this morning?"

Ashley raised a hand to her forehead to block out the bright afternoon sun. A building unlike the other homes was there.

"'Sandy's Candy'," he read the faint words painted on the sign over the door.

"Corny," she scoffed.

"Come on!" he called out like a little kid. "There's probably more chocolate in there!"

He gripped her hand, pulling her along and across the street. Ashley couldn't pause to appreciate the warmth it brought to her palm; she was filled with a strange feeling. Something sat in the pit of her stomach.

Dread.

Ashley shook it off. She liked seeing Carl so happy. She did what she could to stay on his good side. It was a miracle she had gotten on it in the first place.

They peered in through the windows. The curtains were drawn shut, but little cracks in them made it possible to peer through. It was seemingly empty.

Carl gave her a warning look before taking a breath and bracing himself before the door, muttering, "Let's try this again."

"What are you-"

He charged at it with his shoulder, knocking open the slab of wood with a thunderous crack. The lock gave away, flinging open to reveal the small, empty shop. She glanced at him with a raised brow, and he shrugged.

They didn't need words. They both entered the musty store, weapons raised. They weren't needed, either.

Unfortunately, the entire place was empty of candy in addition to Zacks. It had been raided not too long ago, so the two were faced with empty containers of crumbs.

"This sucks," Ashley sighed placing her multiple knives on the counter top.

"Wait," Carl held up a hand. "I bet there's a back storage thing or basement with more."

She felt the uneasiness grow, and Carl could obviously see it.

"Hey," he said softly. "I'll be fine. What could go wrong in a candy shop, right?"

"Right," she forced a smile. He gave her one last lingering, undecipherable look before turning to slip through the 'Employees Only' door.

"Basement! I called it," Carl announced through the door. Ashley giggled a little, looking around the empty shop. She could imagine how nice it would be to have a place like this around here. All the kids coming after school, eager for an afternoon treat. Various colored pictures lined the walls, all done by children around the neighborhood. Some were splattered with blood.

_Don__'t go in the basement, Ash._

She sucked in a breath and felt her eyes blow wide at the memory of her dream. Her heart dropped in sudden panic. _No. Carl._

With a burst of terror, Ashley sprinted toward the back door, just as a boyish scream rang out from below.

Apparently _everything_ could go wrong in a candy shop.

* * *

**Uh ohh what's in the basement? :o Hope you liked this chapter. I know I didn't get any of Carl's POV, but he'll start off the next one:) **

**Review pretty please?**

**Love you all 3 **


	5. Chapter 5

**Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited. I appreciate it so much, you have no idea. Oh, and yay! A full Carl chapter just for you guys:) hope you like it!**

* * *

Carl prided himself in his skills to adapt to situations. It was almost unreal how much he had changed since the beginning. A little boy, frightened and skittish, always hiding behind his mother's legs and peering around them with tearful eyes. Who could blame him? He was twelve, living in a world where the dead walked and the living were feared.

Carl wasn't twelve anymore.

He watched. He learned. He changed. Killing the Walkers became second nature. It was the only way to survive, the only way to be strong, and the ones lost in his life didn't deserve their memory to be tainted if he was scared of what they fought for.

He got stronger, both physically and mentally. He could run faster, use more brute strength in order to thrust a knife into a skull. His senses were more astute.

Which is why he could not fathom how a Walker snuck up on him so easily.

The basement was dingy and dirty, smelling strongly of rotting flesh. That enough was a dead giveaway to turn around and walk back up the stairs, back to Ashley, but one thing about Carl that did not change was his curiosity.

His steps creaked on the wooden stairs, making him cringe. He clenched his gun tighter, peering around the darkened basement with watchful eyes.

_There_. It was a box, resting on a metal shelf a few yards away, marked 'Snickers'.

His favorite.

He moved forward, smiling at the idea of presenting the box to Ashley. He could already picture the awed and pretty smile spreading over her face-

There was movement beside him, but it was too late to react. A garbled growl right by his ear, a skeletal grip on his shoulder. He could smell the putrid stench of the Walker's breath as it snapped at his neck.

He stumbled back, dropping his gun and heard it skid a few feet away. _Crap_. He lost his footing as he fought off the Walker's advances, falling backwards.

A sharp pain shot up his leg, making him cry out into the dark basement. Carl scrunched up his face at the unbearable throbbing in his ankle, like a hundred pricks slicing through his bone.

Did he break it? Shit, he had no idea how he was getting out of this one…

What was left of the Walker's jaw snapped open, growling into his face. Carl used all the strength he could muster to hold it away, but it was waning.

Frantically, he darted his eyes left and right, attempting to find a way to escape. He couldn't use brute force to shove off the Walker and make a run for it. He wasn't even sure he could make it up the stairs his foot was hurting so bad.

He spotted something on the shelf a few feet away. There, on the bottom shelf, sat a metal piece of a shelf, undoubtedly broken off one of them. It would have to do.

Carl forced down his panic, pushing it to the back of his mind. He had to _focus_. Grunting in pain, he kicked at the Walker's caved-in chest with his good foot, feeling the flimsy bone break beneath his boot. He knew it would not kill it, but it bought him a split second to crawl toward the shelf.

He reached out, closing his sweaty fingers around the cool, cylindrical metal piece, right before his jeans were clasped by dead fingers, tugging him down. Carl winced at the pain in his leg, and brought the weapon down _hard_ on its head.

The crack was audible, but not enough. It growled loudly, scrambling up to take a bite out of his jugular, but he continued, bringing the metal and cracking it against its head. Over and over and over.

Blood splattered all over him, pooling around the floor at his back and drenching his entire body in thick, dark gore. _Finally_, the Walker stilled, slumping onto his body with a beaten head turned into mush. It slid onto his chest and neck.

Carl sucked in a gasp, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. That was too close. _Way_ too close.

He expected to hear Ashley's footsteps any second, coming down to scold him for taking too long and accuse him of eating all the candy without her, but that was nothing like what his ears caught onto.

More groans. More creaks and hungry growls deeper into the darkness of the basement that his eyes could not see.

How _big_ was this freaking basement?!

A few shuffled closer, sliding footsteps echoing into the darkness. He was still trapped beneath the Walker.

"Carl?"

_Oh no._

She ran down the stairs, two at a time, and he watched her eyes grow wide as she registered the scene before her. "Shit, are you okay?"

She pushed the Walker off of him, and he tried to stand, but his foot simply would not support his weight. He fell onto the cement with a startled cry of pain.

"My ankle," he grunted. "Ashley, get out of here. There's more."

"I'm _not_ leaving you," she shot back sternly, her cheeks flushed with panic.

Carl could hear the shuffled steps come closer, hear the hungry moans. She had to get out, _now._

"Ash, _please_," he begged. "I can't get up the stairs, and you can't carry me. Go back to my dad and Michonne."

He could smell them they were so close.

"No," she spat, eyes glistening. "_Damn it, _I left my knives on the counter."

"Leave!" he ordered. She _would not_ die here.

"Not without you."

He could see the approaching Walker's silhouette over her shoulder. He could feel the blood soak into his back, and the putrid scent reach his nose. Wait…

"Agh," he hissed, flying up to his feet, ignoring the excruciating pain shoot up his leg. He gave no warning to Ashley before he grabbed her body and slammed her against the wall between two shelves, caging her between his arms in their little alcove.

She gasped at his sudden movement, wincing when the back of her head hit the cement wall. He'd have to apologize to her for that later, but now, they had more pressing issues to worry about.

"What are you-" Ashley began to say, but Carl cut her off by pressing closer, his mouth at her cheek.

"Shut up," he shushed. "Don't move."

He didn't turn to look over his shoulder when the Walker passed. He could sense when it got close; the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

_Please work. Don__'t notice them_.

He held his breath, choosing to peer into Ashley's eyes instead to calm himself. Her silver orbs were blown wide with a mixture of fear and determination, looking over his shoulder at the Walker while slowing her breathing. Their bodies were flush together, leaving no space to move.

Carl felt his cheeks burn, and then cursed himself for it. There was absolutely _no way_ he should be thinking about how close he was to her when a Walker was freaking _four _feet away.

The Walker blood soaked on his flannel and skin masked the human smell on him, and by covering her, hid Ashley from their attention as well.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins when he heard the Walker shuffle past, pausing right behind him. Ashley's fingers gripped the front of his shirt, and pressed their cheeks together.

She would be okay. If the Walker grabbed him, he'd distract it enough to give her room to escape. He wouldn't let her get caught. He _couldn__'t_.

"It's gone," Ashley whispered breathlessly against his grimy cheek, sending tingles down his spine. "It worked."

"There's more," he murmured back quietly. "I hear them coming."

"What do you want to do?" she asked. Before he could open his mouth, she immediately protested. "I'm _not _leaving you, so don't even ask me to."

"Ash-"

"Carl."

He sighed, defeated. "You're impossible."

"Shh," she hissed. "Two more."

He unconsciously pressed closer to her. Something in his subconscious told him he needed to save Ashley, _protect her_. He couldn't explain it, but the thought of a Walker tearing into her flesh made his skin crawl and blood boil.

He prayed the blood on his body transferred enough to hers to mask her smell. His shirt stuck uncomfortably to his form, coated in the thick blood.

"Carl," Ashley whispered, almost silently. He blinked his eyes open, not realizing he had even closed them, and met her stare. She glanced down, and he followed her gaze.

Oh. Crap. His hand was clenching the curve of her hip, almost too tightly. He didn't mean to. He cleared his throat lightly and weakened his grip."Sorry."

"I think they're gone for now," she murmured, peering over his shoulder. "We have to get out. Like soon."

"I know," he huffed. "Help me walk up the stairs?"

"Of course, but we have to go _now_."

They moved at once. He pulled away from her, their shirts sticking together for a moment from the blood, and he suddenly felt the pain coursing down his ankle. He nearly collapsed, but Ashley caught him.

"Come on," she said, tucking herself into his side and holding him around the waist. He thankfully draped his arm across her shoulder and limped quickly toward the stairs.

No Walkers were in sight. They were all probably at the back of the basement. Perfect.

They got to the foot of the stairs when he stumbled, banging his knee loudly on the first wooden step. Of course, this daring escape wouldn't be complete without him royally screwing up.

The sound reverberated, making him and Ashley pause in shock.

The groans were closer than he anticipated.

The first Walker made its appearance by the side of the stairs, another one right behind it. Lifeless, sunken eyes fixed on the both of them, and the first grabbed at Ashley.

_No_. He shoved her up the stairs, forcing her to have higher ground while he was left to face it. He kicked at his stomach, feeling it give away while it stumbled back into its friend.

Adrenaline continued to pulse through him, temporarily lessening the pain in his foot. Before he had a chance to get up the stairs, the fallen Walker moved to grab his foot. The injured one.

He screamed in agony, kicking at it head. Suddenly, he felt a whirring by his ear, and the Walker was down with a wooden piece sticking out of its head.

He gasped, glancing up at Ashley, with her splintered hands and wide eyes. She had ripped off a part of the railing beside her with her bare hands.

"Carl!"

He turned around and saw the second one crawl over its buddy, jaw snapping hungrily. Rags hung off its rotting frame. Suddenly, something glinted a few feet away, catching his attention.

His gun.

Huh, maybe _some_ things were going his way today.

He dove for it, doing his best to ignore the strain of his injury.

His fingers curled around the trigger once he got to it, twisting onto his back and aiming at the approaching Walkers head. A clean shot.

He caught his breath, glancing up at Ashley, but she wasn't there. The staircase was empty.

'Good girl,' he thought to himself, but still, a part of him felt oddly empty at the thought of her being gone. It was okay though, she was safe. That was all that mattered.

More Walkers appeared around the corner. Jesus, what the hell were they even all _doing _down here?

He shot at another one, watching it go down and knock a few others along with it. He didn't have enough bullets; he couldn't walk on his own.

Things weren't looking too good for him, huh?

When the fifth Walker shuffled forward, he aimed his gun, but it only clicked. Empty.

Just when he thought he was done for…another whirring sound. Another fallen Walker.

A shining knife stuck out of it, and Carl lifted his eyes to the staircase.

Ashley was back. Ashley had her knives, and she was ready to kill.

She flicked her wrists and let the blades whip at them, plunging into their skulls right between the eyes.

She ran to him when the area was clear for the moment, helping him to his feet and stumbled toward the steps. He caught sight of his hat sitting by the shelf, and picked it up on the way, plopping it on his head.

"I got you, come on," Ashley chanted, rushing to help him up. Walkers followed behind them, stumbling clumsily as they attempted to get up the old steps.

They reached the top, and Carl collapsed on the tiled floor of the candy shop while Ashley rushed to shut and lock the basement door.

Fresh, non-decaying air flooded his lungs, which Carl sucked down greedily. They were okay. _They were safe_.

He saw her lay down next to him in fatigue.

"All that for a piece of chocolate?"

He peered at her at the corner of his eye in amusement, before feeling the chuckles rise up in his throat. He didn't know what was so funny, because really, nothing was, but he couldn't stop. The adrenaline was fading, his ankle was throbbing, and he couldn't help but laugh in pure relief.

She joined along after a moment, her soft giggles filling the small shop and laced with his deeper chuckles.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist after a minute, the warmth of her skin going through the cloth of his shirt. "I'm glad you're okay. How's the ankle?"

"We'll deal with it later," he answered back tiredly. Now that the danger was gone he felt so tired. "Come on, we should go."

She rose to help him up, but his eyes caught on something on the floor. There was blood all over them, but the blood left behind where her head had been laying was different. Walker blood is a rusty brown, but this little stain was bright red.

"Ash," his voice was low. "Let me see your head."

She blinked at him, turning around. He touched her scalp, and felt her wince and pull away.

"Did you hit your head?" he wondered, worried.

"When you pushed me against the wall," she mumbled after a moment. "I'm fine though, seriously. Let's go home and get that ankle looked at, 'kay?"

With slight hesitation, he nodded and allowed her to help him to his feet.

* * *

They had been in that basement longer than he originally thought. Wisps of orange and pink crossed the Georgia sky, signaling the end of the day with a beautiful sunset. The air was warm on Carl's skin as Ashley helped him walk across the street, drying the thick deposit of Walker blood on his clothes and flesh.

"Still want to grab a few apples?" he asked.

"It's probably a good idea."

They walked, well, Carl limped, toward the tree across the street. He was glad Ashley wanted to show him the apples; they were beautiful.

In his old life, a plain old apple tree would never have caught his attention like this. Yet, it was hard to find something that remained pure and alive after the last two years. The red, ripe fruit shone prettily against the splash of color in the sky beyond it, swaying delicately in the breeze.

Ashley plucked one from a low branch, looking for a place on her to rub it on, but in the end, shrugged and took a big bite out of it.

"How is it?"

"Delicious," she grinned. "Come on, grab a few and we'll head back."

As they gathered a bagful of apples, Carl let his curiosity show.

"Hey, so how'd you learn to fight like that?"

"…Like what?"

"In the woods last week. Y'know, with the sliding and kicking and all that. Pretty badass."

She chuckled beside him. After a few more apples made their way in her bag, she shut it and turned to look at him fully. "My brother."

"Your brother?"

She smiled softly, looking over Carl's shoulder at the sunset. "Yeah. My dad made him get into martial arts classes and stuff. And then he passed it on to me."

They began walking back.

"What about the knives?"

Ashley sighed, absently playing with the handle of one sheathed at her waist.

"I never learned how to use a gun right. I saw a bunch of knives in a house one night, and figured I'd teach myself."

Whoa. "You taught _yourself_?"

"It's not hard. I can show you sometime. Only if you teach me how to use a gun."

"Fair enough."

They chatted aimlessly as she helped him made the rest of the trek home. Nothing too deep or personal, but enough so their conversation was never dull. Fortunately, they didn't run into any Walkers.

He liked her. Ashley. She was funny and knew how to hold her own in this world. She knew how to make him smile, something he thought only Michonne could do now, and after she stayed by his side in that basement, he felt even more appreciative of her.

He knew why he was so closed-off to her when they first met. He just…needed something to place his anger on; anger at everything: Losing Judith and their friends, the Governor… He was so lost and broken, and he _still _felt that way. He knew the immoral thoughts drifting through his head at night. He tried so hard to keep himself sane and principled.

Carl didn't need to hate Ashley. She was _already_ making him better.

He wanted her to stick around.

"Can you get up the stairs?" she asked in concern once they approached the porch to the house.

"Yeah," he huffed. It was difficult; he could feel his ankle swelling immensely in his boot. When they reached the door, Ashley seemed to sway a little in her place.

"You good?" he held her steady, furrowing his brows in worry. She nodded firmly and opened the front door.

His dad was on them in a second.

"Where in the hell wer-"

His voice trailed off, blinking at their appearances.

They were both completely covered in dried Walker blood, from head to toe.

"We got apples," Ashley held up the satchel proudly, but her voice wavered, alarming Carl.

He glanced at her. The skin visible under the brown blood was paler than her usual olive complexion, and her eyes drooped.

"Ashl-"

The apples fell to the floor.

And that was when she collapsed.

* * *

**Uh oh :o Well you got to see heroic Carl in this chapter! Next one shows the two teaching each other how to throw knives and shoot a gun, so keep an eye out for the next update. I'll probably post it by next week. Personally, that next one was my favorite to write (slight fluffiness) hope you don't mind that hehe**

**Review please! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Longest chapter I've ever written omg. I actually had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you guys like this chapter! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal a familiar ceiling. It was pale white, with a single stream of sunlight beaming across it.

_Ugh, why did her head hurt so bad?_

The effort it took to turn her face was slightly difficult. The living room was the same as ever, but Carl was sitting right beside her.

A jolt of surprise fluttered through her. He stayed beside her this whole time? He was asleep, leaning his head against the armrest by her head while his feet spread out before him.

'Wait, what the hell even happened?'

"Carl," she spoke, her voice raspy in her throat.

He jerked up, swiveling his head to face her and reveal his concerned, bloodshot eyes. "You're awake."

"Am I really?" she teased, trying to sit up. He scrambled to stop her, holding her shoulders back against the pillow.

"Don't get up. You need to rest."

"What happened?" she winced.

Carl sighed, sitting on the edge of the couch by her waist and scrubbed at his grimy face. "You hit your head. Concussion."

"Oh," she frowned. She remembered the pain of hitting her skull on the cement wall, the dizziness that came with it afterward, but she didn't think it was _that_ bad. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," he grumbled.

"Seriously?" she gaped. "Damn."

She relaxed back, shutting her eyes for a moment. Her head throbbed, but she felt okay enough to function. She's hit her head before, but figured it had to do with lack of water and proper nutrients that made her so lightheaded.

"Geez, Ash. I thought you died," Carl murmured quietly. She cracked an eye open, seeing him avoid her gaze and stare at the floor.

Ashley didn't think twice before she reached out and laced their hands together. He blinked down at it. "I'm okay," she promised. "I'm alive."

"I know," he squeezed her fingers for a moment before slowly letting go.

They sat in peaceful silence before the other two in the house entered the room.

"We heard your voice," Rick said, standing beside them. "You okay?"

"I'll live," Ashley nodded.

"Carl told me what happened," he continued, a small frown line making its way between his brows. Ashley could see the conflicting emotions in his expression. He didn't know whether to be relieved or angry.

"Let's just hope they don't get into another situation like that," Michonne commented, laying a hand on Ashley's shoulder for a second.

"It was pretty stupid," Rick scolded, "but like I said before, you two make a good team."

Ashley gave them a small smile, feeling drowsiness slowly seep into her system. Carl noticed immediately.

"Get some rest. You gotta heal."

"But-"

"I'm not moving."

Ashley smiled softly, feeling Carl's fingertips trace patterns on the back of her hand before letting sleep take over her.

* * *

Like he promised, Carl didn't move as she slept, and neither did Michonne. His dad left to do something else in the house.

Ashley's breathing was faint, but thankfully steady. He remembered the moment she fell, remembered the rush of fear in him as she nearly hit the floor before he immediately reacted and caught her. He couldn't recall the last time he was so scared for someone else besides Judith.

His dad had been indignant, shooting off questions about where they went and why they were so bloody. Carl shouted at him to shut up with his scolding and _help Ashley_.

God, he really had thought she died. Her breathing was so light and she was covered with Walker blood and she wouldn't _wake up_.

The whole time he was next to her. He waited those 48 hours for her to release her last breath and make the transformation into a Walker. Carl already knew it would be as hard as it was for him when he thought his father turned into one.

He watched her sleep peacefully. Little puffs of air left her partly open lips, and the crescent shape of her dark lashes spread over her bloody cheeks. They _really_ needed to clean themselves up soon.

"You doing okay?" Michonne spoke up from the recliner chair beside him.

He didn't remove his eyes from Ashley. "I'm fine. It's not me I'm worried about."

"You care about her," she continued simply.

He nodded, trying to find his words. "I…I don't really know why, but I do. I just- I have this urge to protect her, you know?"

She smiled at his words and he felt the need to continue speaking. If anyone understood him, it was Michonne.

All his thoughts poured out of his mouth. "I made myself hate her at first because I just needed something to be mad at. But…I can't be mad at her. I- she helps me feel better about everything. I can't…I mean I just don't want-"

"You don't want to lose her, too."

"Yeah," he finished quietly. Michonne leaned forward, tugging Carl toward her in a tight hug. He gratefully embraced her back. Ever since the prison, Michonne had taken the mother role in Carl's life. She was one of the only people he could talk freely to. Other than Ashley now, of course.

When they pulled back, Michonne stood, dusting off her pants. "I'm gonna head upstairs to sleep a bit…see if there's any books I could read, too."

"Alright."

Soon, it was just Ashley and Carl.

He glanced back at her, frowning at the streaks of dirt and blood coating her features. He still couldn't fathom that after all they went through two days before, dealing with countless Walkers in a dingy basement, the only injury Ashley received was from him.

On the way home from it, he briefly pondered about why the shop looked so clean and Walker-free, yet the basement was crawling with them. Then, he realized they were probably locked down there once the outbreak started, undoubtedly infected. People were pretty oblivious back then.

The skin on the back of her hand was soft as he stroked it lightly with the pad of his thumb. He was glad she woke up. If she hadn't…well it was yet _another _person Carl cared about that died. And it would be _his _fault.

Frustration flooded his mind. He _hated _living in this world. He hated the Walkers, he hated what it forced people to become.

He hated what _he _had become. Carl knew better now. He understood that his merciless thinking at the prison was wrong. Sure people had to be strong to survive, but it wasn't the only quality that a person had to possess if they wanted to go on. People needed to have faith. They needed to be trustworthy. How else would they rebuild this world? On hostility?

He knew this, but he still had these thoughts…

When he felt the small hand under his twist around to grasp his loosely, he knew, in the end, they'd only be temporary.

* * *

"Like this?"

He held up his clenched hand for Ashley to observe, one of her blades grasped tightly.

She looked at it with pursed lips, tapping her chin. "Keep your thumb over the top. And don't hold it so tight or it'll ruin your release."

He fixed his error, glancing down at his hand as he awkwardly held it. He was used to shoving knives with force, and that required little skill when it came to how to hold it, but throwing them? It was trickier than Ashley made it look.

Once she had completely healed three days later, and his sprained ankle was sturdy enough, they decided to spend their days outside in the backyard. He was determined to learn how she threw the knives so easily. The skill was useful: it was quiet, quick, and didn't need be reloaded like a gun. And you saw tons of them in houses, so the supply was nearly limitless.

"Better?"

"Much," she smiled. "Okay, so it really depends on the type of knife you have. If the handle is heavier than the blade, you have to throw it by the sharp side, which I try to avoid."

"Why?" he wondered.

She gave him a wry smile. "You think I'd want to cut my hand off if I grabbed it too fast? So, if you're looking for one, take the ones with heavier blade sides. All about the right balance and stuff."

Interesting. "Okay, next?"

"If it's close-range, you have to flick your wrists much faster to make it spin. If a Zack is really far, don't bend your wrist at all and use more of your arm."

She showed him the movements, aiming at the tree across the yard where they placed a chalk-drawn target in the center.

Her knife released from her hand, spinning swiftly and slicing through the air until it impaled straight into the center of the target.

A low whistle was heard behind them. Carl looked over his shoulder, seeing his dad and Michonne plopping themselves on the porch steps, simply watching them.

"Impressive," Michonne munched into an apple.

"Thanks," Ashley murmured, handing Carl a medium-sized knife with a dark blue handle. "You try."

"Um…okay," he muttered, testing it out in his hand. Now that she pointed it out, he really could feel the weight difference on each side of it. If he tried to balance the knife in the center, the blade side would tip over. He understood which side he needed to grip.

With a deep breath, Carl focused his gaze on the white target, burning his eyes into the center. The backyard was quiet, edgy with anticipation, and you could cut the sudden tension with a knife. Pun intended.

Left foot forward, shift weight to the front and…release.

Carl felt the blade soar from his hand, spinning crookedly until it disappeared over the fence behind the tree a good ten feet to the left.

"Fail," Michonne catcalled.

Carl stuck out his tongue over his shoulder, which she gladly returned.

"That sucked," Carl sulked, turning back to Ashley. He could see her trying not to laugh at him.

"No, don't worry. I was much worse at first," she fought down a smile, but her gray eyes twinkled. "Okay um…have you played baseball?"

Carl blinked. "Um yeah. Little league a long time ago. Why?"

"You're throwing it like a baseball," she explained, motioning with her arms. "Don't think of it like that or your arm's gonna go across your body. Go straight down…like chopping wood."

She handed him another one, slightly heavier than the first, and Carl inhaled slowly. He could do this…it wasn't hard.

He set up his feet, remembering to think about chopping wood…straight down…

"Relax your hand a bit," Ashley suggested softly, placing a soft hand over his. He tensed at the close proximity of her, feeling her body heat, but she was quickly gone again.

'Focus,' he muttered. He glared at the target, preparing for his throw.

This time, he was much more successful. The knife sailed straight, heading right for the tree. The butt end of the knife hit the bark above the target, bouncing off toward the grass with a distinct thump. It didn't stick, but it was much closer than before.

"Nice!"

He turned to Ashley with a wide grin, meeting her own proud smile. "That was awesome!"

"Soon enough and you'll be better than I am," she teased, playfully shoving his shoulder. "But if you wanna be a ninja knife thrower like me, you gotta lose the stupid hat."

"I believe that used to be _my_ stupid hat, young lady," Rick commented wryly from the steps.

Carl smiled. "Sorry, me and the hat are a package deal."

Ashley rolled her eyes, but quickly darted an arm out and snatched it right from his scalp, plopping it on her own. "Just kidding, I like the hat."

Laughter bubbled in Carl's chest, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. "Hey, give it!" he called spiritedly, chasing her around the backyard when she scurried away.

He briefly noticed his dad and Michonne going back inside. When he neared Ashley by the target tree, he stumbled on a root, feeling a sharp pain in his healing ankle. He hissed, ceasing his running to check his foot.

"You okay?" Ashley quickly sobered, rushing to kneel by him. Their little chase was quickly forgotten.

Carl nodded, his face scrunching up. "Yeah. Just put weight on it weird. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry about your ankle," she mumbled, helping him walk back to the porch so they could sit.

"Hey, no, it's not your fault. I blame the stupid Walkers for it. It's me who should be sorry about your head."

She unconsciously touched the tender spot at the back of her skull. "Well, I should thank you for that. Otherwise, I'd be that Zack's next meal."

They were quiet for a moment, simply sitting on the steps and enjoying the warm, Georgia air. It was nice, Carl thought. He hadn't felt this relaxed since the prison. A part of him wondered if they should stay at this house forever. It was somewhat secure, and they could handle the food problem if they searched hard enough. He liked it here. With Ashley, especially.

"I'm hungry," she said after a few minutes. "What's for lunch?"

"Apples," he chuckled.

"Come on then, let's go inside. Race ya to the kitchen!"

"Hey, that's not fair. Cripple here!"

* * *

"I can help, ya know."

"I got this," Carl called over his shoulder to Rick, before turning to place his attention on Ashley. After a successful day of teaching Carl the art knife throwing, she could safely say he was a natural. Well, once he stopped whipping the blades like he was throwing a touchdown.

It took a few weeks to train herself, but either Ashley was an amazing teacher, or Carl was simply good at it, because after a day and a half of practicing, he could hit at least the outside of the target.

He told her that morning he needed a break, and took it upon himself to suggest teaching her how to use a gun.

The metal felt cool against her skin, and it was much heavier than she had anticipated. Nevertheless, she was determined to learn how to use the most common weapon in this world. She knew Carl felt like he owed her.

"Is this the first time you've held one?" he wondered, coming to the conclusion by merely observing her with it.

Sheepish, she nodded, clumsily grasping the gun in her fingers, avoiding the trigger. Knowing her luck, she'd accidently set it off and blast one of their feet off.

"That's okay," Carl shrugged, stepping closer. Rick was the only one there with proper training, but he knew his son had enough practice to be able to teach Ashley herself.

"Wait," Michonne spoke up from her position against another tree. She was sharpening her sword, soaking up the sun. "Should we be firing back here? Could be Walkers around."

"I didn't think about that," Rick scratched at his scruffy beard. He glanced at the two of them standing in the middle of the yard. "Sorry, kids. We shouldn't risk it."

Ashley bristled a little at being called a kid. She wasn't a child anymore.

Carl crossed his arms, shifting the weight off his wrapped up leg. "What about that open field a few blocks away? By the stream? We'd see a Walker coming and have time to get away."

Ashley could tell he really wanted to teach her how to shoot. She piped in, "And we could clean off this gross blood and dirt with the water. We'll bring back some more, too."

Rick considered it, and after an exchanged glance with Michonne, who shrugged, he finally relented. "Fine. But stay together. And be back _by sundown_. No exceptions."

"Yes, sir," Carl grumbled. He gently grabbed Ashley's arm and pulled her inside. "Come on. I'm _dying _to get clean."

Ashley rolled her eyes when they made it out the front door, after of course, making sure it was clear. "I thought boys liked getting rolling around in the mud and stuff."

He raised a brow, shooting her a sidelong glance. "I don't think that includes getting bathed in Walker guts."

"True. But thanks for getting it _all _over me, too," she teased, flicking down the brim of his hat.

"Hey! I remember saving your life by doing that."

"You did," Ashley's tone grew soft. She _knew_ he saved her. It ran threw her mind every moment of the day. Even with a messed up ankle, he did whatever he could to protect her.

"Hey, c'mon now. No more sad stuff, right now. Let's just teach you how to shoot, and we'll be squeaky clean right after."

"Right," Ashley snickered, helping her limping companion toward their destination.

* * *

"This is beautiful," Ashley murmured in awe. And it was. The field was filled with light green grass that reached their knees, swaying lightly with a mid-afternoon breeze. It wasn't too large, since they _were _still in a small town, but it stretched on for about a quarter-mile until the beginning of the forest.

A sweet, flowery scent wafted through her nose, and Ashley inhaled it gratefully. It smelled fresh, like spring… She loved it, especially considering they all smelled like dried sweat and Zacks for the longest time. The aroma flooded her lungs, something she was entirely thankful for.

"The stream's over there by the line of trees," Carl spoke, shaking her from her little stupor. She blinked, nodded, and followed him across the field.

Her fingertips traced along the grass. It tickled lightly, making a small smile spread over her lips.

Ashley rose her gaze to Carl walking ahead of her. He was still limping, a slight stagger in his gait, but he was determined to hide it as best he could. He was so stubbornly strong-minded.

His flannel shirt was ripped and filthy, the colors barely visible beneath the dirt and blood. Even the hair peeking from beneath his hat was stringy with grease and filth. She knew the duffel strung over his shoulder was stuffed with new clothes for the both of them.

"Here," he paused. They stopped at the edge of the field, and the long grass disappeared. Ashley's boots sunk a little into the soft ground, the sound of running water filling her ears.

A few yards away sat the stream, a few feet deep by the looks of it. The dark tree line loomed beyond it, several tree trunks making the perfect target for them.

"Perfect," she smiled, dropping her bag to the ground and pulling out a gun. She didn't know their specific names, but figured Carl would inform her soon enough.

"Ready?" he could see the excitement running through her, she had no doubt.

"Are you kidding? Oh man, I was born ready," she hopped on the balls of her feet, rolling her shoulders. Carl laughed, a rich sound that tickled her chest.

"You gotta calm down," he chuckled. "Come over here with your gun."

She strode over, standing beside him.

"Okay, so the first thing about guns is that it should be your _very_ last option," he said seriously. "Don't shoot unless you really need to, got it?"

"Got it, sheriff."

She could see his lips twitch, trying not to smile.

"Keep your arms steady, and your hands not too tight," he stood behind her, lifting his arms to wrap around and show her the correct movement. It took all her self-control not the shiver at his close proximity.

_Jesus, since when did she turn into such a teenage girl?_

"How's this?" she murmured softly.

Carl's eyes trailed over her, observing in his icy blue gaze. "Yeah, you're good."

He made a couple more adjustments to her hands, giving her advice and how to operate it, before deeming her ready to try.

"See that trunk over there?" he pointed, motioning toward a certain tree across the river. It was obvious which one. It stood thicker and darker than the others around her.

Ashley nodded, her lips set in a hard line of determination. She slowed her breathing, using techniques for knife throwing when it came to calming down. Her eyes burned into the bark, lifting her gun at eye-level.

She steadied her hands, hovering a trembling finger over the trigger. She wanted to make Carl proud of her.

_BANG. _The sound resounded loudly throughout the field, making her jump a little. A split second later, and the sound of splintering bark.

"Damn," Carl mumbled from behind her. "You got the edge of the tree. Nice job."

Her chest swelled with pride. Sure, she was good at throwing knives, but she had always been wary of guns. Carl quenched that caution quickly.

"You're a good teacher," Ashley turned around to smile up at him. Carl peered down the brim of his hat, cyanic orbs twinkling. Tension sparked between them. It felt tangible to her, making her skin tingle with _something_. Really, this stupid feeling she got around him was starting to annoy her.

"Come on, let's work on your aim a bit. Everything else looks pretty good," he blinked, shaking himself from whatever stupor she had been in as well.

"Right." Throats cleared, they did just that.

Ashley practiced with Carl until her arms hurt and the bullets made contact with the tree every single time. Luckily, Rick had found a box of ammo, so they had enough to spare for now.

"I think you've got it," Carl nodded.

"I can get clean now?" Ashley turned to him excitedly.

"Yes."

"Woohoo!" she cheered. She didn't think twice before she ripped off her disgusting tank and jeans, sprinting for the water. Carl called out her name with laughing disbelief.

The iciness of the water felt like heaven on her flesh. Ashley groaned, diving under the water so that every part of her was soaked. God, she could practically _feel _the dirt washing off of her.

Her sore muscles from the gun's recoil soothed in the water, and for the first time in a _long_ time, Ashley felt fresh.

The need for air became too great after a brief, amazing moment, so she stood up until her head breached the surface. The deepest part of the stream was up to her stomach, but she kicked up her feet and treaded water so more of her could continue to be submerged.

"Carl?" she called out into the warm air. He was nowhere in sight, but a pile of his clothes sat in a pile beside hers…

A sudden splash, and wiggling fingers attacked her waist. She squealed loudly, spinning around to see Carl laughing in the water beside her.

"Carl!" she scolded, but she loved the laughter in his eyes and the easing of his shoulders. This was the most relaxed she had seen him in…well _ever_.

The moisture seeped into her skin as they washed up, simply enjoying the water and each other's company. Ashley _really_ didn't want to get out. She could stay in this water forever.

Eventually, however, forever didn't last that long. Her teeth chattered after the hour or two they spent swimming, and her fingertips pruned deeply.

Crawling out of the water, Ashley suddenly remembered her brash decision to strip right in front of Carl. _Oops_.

They were only in their underwear, so Ashley quickly pretended it was just a bathing suit to lessen her embarrassment. Her bra and underwear were nothing special. Simple purple and black.

Carl, however, led her toward a small area of short grass near the edge of the field. It would be a perfect place to sit and dry off before heading back.

She allowed her eyes to wander a little as he strode in front of her. Water droplets glistened off his bare back, gathering at the hem of his boxers. He was skinny, that much was apparent. Well, she figured everyone was now, for food was so scarce. Despite that, she could see the hardening lines across his shoulder blades and back, all from puberty and the daily exercise he got.

Ashley hoped she could blame her stained red cheeks on sunburn.

The grass was soft on her back, and she sighed in relaxation.

Carl plopped down right next to her, their damp arms brushing a little. She stared up at the light blue sky, smatterings of fluffy clouds drifting around. It was so beautiful here…

"Ash?"

She turned her head, seeing Carl already watching her intently. The softness in his gaze was such a contrast to how he used to look at her. Before, _God, _it seemed like so long ago when she first came across them, when in reality it had only been over a week. He had glared at her with such malice and annoyance whenever she so much as caught his gaze.

Now, though…she couldn't even place his expression.

As if sensing her thoughts, he spoke, "I'm sorry about being so harsh to you before. That's not me…I just-"

"Hey," Ashley interrupted his ramblings. She could see him struggling to find the right words. "I get it. You were upset about your sister. I understand."

He blinked. "You know about Jud-" he stopped, sucking in a breath to calm himself. "Still…it was no excuse to-"

"I was a stranger. You were just protecting your group, Carl," Ashley was determined to make him understand. Really, she didn't hold anything against him.

"But you're not a stranger anymore," he said after a beat of silence. "You're…you're you."

Cue the thrum in her belly.

"So stop beating yourself up over nothing," Ashley reasoned. She could feel the sun warming her skin and dry the water from it. "I'm here now. It's okay."

"Yeah," he said, his mouth quirking up. He clasped his hands over his waist. "And I want to know more about you. About who you were. _Are_."

And so she told him.

As the sun continued to beat down on them, Ashley told Carl about her life, her interests, her school, where she was when the outbreak began, what she had to do to survive.

She didn't mention _him _though. It was still a fresh wound in her heart.

Ashley told him about her father. How he used to be a military general and continuously beat into her brain the way to defend herself. He bordered on abusive. Tearfully, she told him about how he had selfishly killed her mother and future little sibling.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Carl whispered, brushing her cheek.

"He was a jackass, but I guess in some way he helped me learn to survive."

Ashley turned on her side, resting her cheek in her hand as she listened to Carl talk about _his _life now.

She was thankful for his talking. He could probably tell she wasn't able to continue on anymore. He knew her.

"What happened here?" her gaze caught onto a spot on his stomach. Unlike the smooth, fair skin on the rest of him, this one area was pinkish, puckered into a scar that would most likely last forever.

Her fingertips traced the old wound softly, feeling the slight muscles beneath quiver at her touch.

"I got shot," he murmured. Surprised, she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. They watched hers, trapping her in his icy pools. She was practically drowning. "It was an accident, but it was pretty close. I was twelve, then."

His hair was dry now, and fluffed up a little at the tips. She had never seen how soft it could look.

"How old are you now?"

"Fourteen. Fifteen, now maybe?" he frowned a little in thought. "Yeah, probably fifteen. What about you?"

"Sixteen," she muttered softly, sleepily. Her head dropped to Carl's shoulder, tucking herself into his side. She could fall asleep right then and there, listening to the sound of his breathing, the scent of grass swaying in the breeze. If only the rest of her life could just be this nice…

Movement.

Ashley squinted through the sun reflecting off the rushing water. Everything looked normal, _felt_ normal.

And then the first Zack stumbled out of the forest.

* * *

"Zack."

Carl frowned at Ashley's sudden tense voice. Who was Zack?

Then he remembered that was what she called a Walker. He immediately picked his head up and peered across the stream, slightly grumpy over their interruption.

He liked the feeling of Ashley's silky hair across his arm, the weight of her head on his shoulder. His stomach still tingled where she had traced those fingers over his old scar.

He suddenly perked up. "Hey. This is good practice."

Ashley's concerned expression cleared into one that looked more excited. "Right! Hold on."

She scrambled to slip on the new clothes they brought with them, and Carl quickly averted his gaze before he found himself staring. End of the world or not, he wasn't a creep.

"Okay," she said, helping him off the bed of grass so they could watch the Walker clumsily stumble toward the river.

Carl grabbed a clean baseball style tee from the duffel bag, tugging it over his head. "Remember what I told you?"

"I think so," she breathed deeply, focusing on the Walker. Her hair tumbled down her back in waves, and much to Carl's surprise, was actually a deep brown, rather than black.

She pulled the trigger, and he watched the Walker cease its movements for a moment when the bullet lodged into its stomach.

"Close. Keep trying, you got it," he urged.

Ashley huffed impatiently, adjusting her shoulder and lowering her head. Another shot, hitting its shoulder.

By now the Walker was lurching into the water, growling hungrily as its blank eyes zeroed in on them. It fell on its knees, ineptly fighting for balance against the push of water.

"C'mon, Ash," she mumbled to herself. With a final deep breath, Ashley pulled the trigger.

The Walker went down with a splash.

"Nice!" Carl slung an arm over her shoulder excitedly. Geez, she was a really fast learner…

Her smile was huge as she turned to face him, throwing her arms around his neck in her enthusiasm. "Thanks for teaching me!"

Before he had time to appreciate her closeness and respond, he caught sight of the forest behind her.

More were coming. Three…four, they hobbled out of the woods with hungry snarls. Ashley felt him tense and turned around to see.

"Come on," he tugged her arm. "Let's head back."

No need to waste more ammo. He knew she was good enough. And he'd rather not risk anything after what happened in that basement.

"Wait," she stood firm at the river's edge. "I can take them. Let me practice."

"Ashley, no," he pleaded. She was aiming before he could continue.

"You don't think I can?"

"I _know_ you can, but I'd rather not take the chance."

The first shot rang out, and a single Walker fell down with a bloody hole in its temple. Perfect shot.

She made a sound of approval before aiming for the next one. Two more appeared behind the remaining ones. Carl felt nervousness peak in his chest. The gunshots were just attracting more. There might not be enough ammo for any more.

"Ash."

A second one went down. _Goddamn it, they had to go now._

"_Let__'s go_."

He was about to consider ripping the gun from her tight grasp before she suddenly froze. Her grasp on the gun slackened, and her silvery eyes, previously narrowed in concentration, now bulged.

"What's wrong? Ashley?" Carl shook her shoulder. She didn't budge. It was like she had seen a ghost, she was so pale.

Curious, Carl gazed across the river. Several Walkers were trying to make their way across. The water was only waist deep. If they tried, it was possible to make it over, but so far they were safe. _For now_.

Still, he had no idea what made the girl beside him freeze up in shock.

His eyes landed on a single Walker, looking slightly different than the others. It was male, with dark matted hair and sunken eyes. It lingered by the river's edge, about to make its way across so the bottoms of its clean jeans got wet. It was _that _little detail that caught Carl's attention. _Clean_. This Walker was newly turned.

A single, breathless word escaped Ashley's trembling lips, a word Carl had only heard her utter once before.

"_Dylan_."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed this longer chapter! It was pretty easy-going and action-free so I hope you don't mind that. And the slight fluff was fun to write :) **

**I won't be able to update for a little longer than last time since I'll be computer-less for spring break:( I'll have the next one up as soon as I can! Like always, I'd seriously appreciate a review! Love you all!**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is a little slower than the others, but I hope you still like it! Enjoy:)**

* * *

Her whole body was numb.

_No. It couldn't be. Nonononono._

Her chest felt tight, like she was struggling for air and walls were closing in on her. An uncontrollable chill ran up her spine, rendering her motionless.

She didn't realize she was mumbling under her breath as her horror-stricken eyes latched onto one specific Zack.

"No. No…"

He looked so heartbreakingly the same as when she last saw him. With the unruly mop of brown hair atop his head that she always bugged him to cut, and his favorite red t-shirt adorning his torso.

Not anymore.

He hobbled toward her across the water, his skin a pasty gray from decomposition, flaking over certain areas.

_This couldn't be happening._

Her vision blurred. She couldn't find her breath as she met his blank gaze.

The once friendly green eyes that crinkled at the corners were milky white, focused on her hungrily. _No_.

"-shley! Move!"

She blinked. The vision of Dylan in her mind suddenly turned to another Zack, reaching out toward her with bloody, decayed fingers. Her mouth opened in a silent scream when another body flew into it, knocking the both of them to the moist earth.

Carl struggled with the Zack, an incomprehensible tangle of both living and dead limbs on the ground. He growled, grabbing a nearby rock and smashing it into its head repeatedly until it ceased moving.

Ashley couldn't find her voice. She was frozen in place, her legs turned to stone as her gaze returned to the very familiar Zack stumbling in the stream, moving closer and closer…

_Oh, Dylan._

Blue lights filled her hazy vision, shining through and piercing her soul. They made her feel calm…made her heavy heart feel lighter. So pretty.

Not lights. Eyes.

"Ashley." Carl pleaded. His hands cupped her cheeks, forcing her to focus on him. "Ash, _please_. We need to leave. I don't have enough ammo."

She couldn't respond.

It was _impossible_. How could he be a Zack? Her mind wouldn't accept it. No, impossible.

Yet, the evidence was visible right over Carl's shoulder. Closer.

"Ash. Ashley, _look at me_."

She gasped, sucking in a lungful of breath. Carl didn't move, pressing his forehead to hers while his eyes flicked back and forth between her wide, unseeing ones.

"_Please_. We have to go."

He didn't give her a choice.

Carl grabbed her waist, pulling her with all his strength in the other direction. Their bag was over his shoulder already.

Suddenly, she snapped out of it. She could feel the protests exploding out of her throat as she was dragged away.

"_NO!_" she shrieked. "No, I can't _leave _him like that!"

Carl wouldn't listen. It was at that moment she noticed how many Zacks had come out of the forest. There were at least ten, half of them already across the river and hobbling after them. Carl had taken out one that got too close to her.

Dylan wouldn't want that. _No_, she couldn't leave him like that, just wandering as a Zack. Nononono.

She was frantically trying to escape Carl's arms as he limped through the grass with her.

"Please, Carl," she cried, hysterical. "Let me go."

"_No_," he snapped_._ His expression then softened a bit."There's too many. I'm sorry, Ash."

She wanted to explode. She wanted to cry. _God_, she just wanted to hug Dylan again.

They arrived back down the street of the house within fifteen minutes with no trail of Zacks behind them. When Carl stopped running, she slumped to the hard gravel.

Her limbs felt like rubber, and her chest filled with lead. Her knees scraped against the street, but she didn't care. Oh, she didn't care about anything.

_How could she have left him like that_?

Ashley hated Carl right then. She _loathed _him. He made her leave. He forced her to leave Dylan back there with the other Zacks. His fault. All his fault.

Proper reasoning came through her anger, however. She very well knew it wasn't Carl's fault at all; he was just trying to protect her. But, God, why did everything hurt so much?

She dropped her head into her hands.

And then she let it all out.

She cried, deep, heart wrenching sobs escaping painfully from her throat into the quiet neighborhood. She couldn't remember the last time she cried like this. She cried for everyone who lost everything in this goddamn world. She cried for her mom.

She cried for Dylan and what he had become.

Ashley felt warmth on her back, rubbing soothing circles against the thin cloth. Her sobs turned to weeps, which eventually diminished into occasional sniffles.

Hesitantly, she lifted her head, blinking through her tear-soaked eyes to peer right. Carl sat there beside her; his eyes dulled with compassion and sadness, looking more the shade of a stormy sky. He had no idea why she was so upset, but she knew he understood. He _always_ understood her.

"Let's go home," he muttered softly, helping her off the dirty road.

* * *

Rick took one look at her face and immediately knew something was wrong. He was silent when Carl helped her through the front door, nodding once to Carl, exchanging a look that Ashley didn't bother trying to interpret. She felt so tired all of a sudden.

Hours passed, and the once exciting, hopeful day turned into a somber evening. Carl had helped her into a bedroom upstairs, tucking her into the twin-sized bed and giving her space to think.

She spent hours burying her face into the stark pillow, wishing the memory of Dylan's putrefied and rotting face would disappear. Now that she knew he was out there, wandering the streets looking for flesh to tear into made her want to cry all over again. She was so frantic and frenzied earlier, when now…she was so tired and lonely.

She just needed someone to hug.

Ashley remembered Carl. He protected her earlier that day, not letting any Zacks come close to her, while he was weaponless and injured. He understood her, not asking any questions and doing what needed to be done by making their escape.

The least she owed him was an explanation.

Silently, Ashley urged her sore muscles to lift her from the bed. She padded down the empty hall, feeling the cold wood permeate through her thin socks, until she carefully pushed open the door to where Carl was staying.

It wasn't that late in the night, but when Ashley peered into the room, Carl was asleep.

He was slumped against the headboard of his bed, an open comic book splayed open on his lap with a lit flashlight beside him. His hat was propped on the bedside table, displaying his newly washed, soft-looking hair.

Despite the storm of emotions running through her, Ashley couldn't help by smile softly at the sight.

It would have been smart to just let him sleep and go back to her room, but the overwhelming need to be near him took over. Ashley entered the room, walking closer to his sleeping form. The position looked uncomfortable, so when she carefully sat on the bed beside him, he stirred at the movement.

"Ash?" his voice was hoarse, and he rubbed at his eyes before blinking up at her.

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked immediately, looking more attentive now that he was more awake.

She ignored his question. "I figured we should talk. That I should tell you…"

"Tell me?"

"About Dylan," she murmured softly. "My brother."

* * *

Carl couldn't think of anything worse than seeing Ashley cry.

Sure he'd experienced a countless amount of tragedies within three short years, but after everything that happened to him, he figured he was tough enough to handle anything. Well, at least most things.

One of the things that rattled him more than he'd ever admit was the sound of those wretched sobs coming from her mouth. It _killed _him to see her like that. Ashley was so strong, so collected and sure of herself, but when she saw that Walker earlier that day, he couldn't comprehend how much she had broken down.

It would undoubtedly take a while for her to open up. He expected her to remain in her room for a good amount of time, to recuperate until she felt good and whole again.

Which is why it surprised him so much when came to his room _hours_ later asking to talk about it.

"Yeah," he blurted, shoving his comic to the side and scooting left to make room for her. "Sure, we can talk."

She gave him this sad smile and slowly crawled in beside him to they were side by side on the small mattress.

Carl watched as she tried to find a comfortable position. Ashley shifted her legs; bringing her knees up to her chin for a moment, before sliding them back down shakily. She was nervous, revealing this information to him, he realized.

"So," he began. "Dylan's your brother?"

"_Was_," she spoke sharply. "He was my brother. Yeah. We were inseparable."

Carl listened attentively as she told her story.

"It was just three weeks before I met you guys. We were all together: Mom, Dad, me, Dylan," she explained. "We…got into a bit of trouble after raiding a store."

"What happened?" he asked carefully, peering at the girl beside him. She stared forward, mind engrossed in the memory. Her gray eyes flickered, and her long lashes cast a shadow across her forehead from his flashlight.

"There were a few Zacks coming after us. Mom…she was pregnant, she couldn't run for that long. Dad refused to drop our bags to carry her. Son of a bitch."

Her hand clenched into a fist between them, and Carl didn't think twice before placing his palm over it and lacing their fingers together. She squeezed his hand tightly, gratefully.

"They were too close. We wouldn't be able to get away," Ashley's voice wavered. "But then…Dylan, he stopped and…"

She sniffed, turning to bury her face into Carl's shoulder. He could feel her breath on his neck as she continued.

"He said he'd lead them away and meet us back at our hideout. I begged him not to go, Carl, but he wouldn't _listen_. Mom did too, but he just said he'd see us later and ran off in another direction, shouting and throwing rocks at the Zacks…"

She was quiet for a moment, and Carl thought she fell asleep or something, until she shifted beside him. Carefully, he lowered until they were properly lying down on the bed.

"We got away," Ashley said softly. "I waited at the camp for him. I sat there, day and night, but it was the last time I'd see him. Until…"

Carl shut his eyes at the sound of the pain in her voice. He wanted to take it all away from her.

She clenched the fabric of his shirt between her trembling fingers.

"I thought he was off somewhere else, maybe," she cried. "_Alive_. Or…maybe the worst would be that he died. For good, I mean. I _never _thought…"

She wept softly, and Carl quickly maneuvered her so she was pressed into his chest, holding her to him in a tight embrace.

"Shh, it's okay," he whispered into her hair. "I'msorry, Ash. I'm _so_ sorry."

His heart went out to her. She's gone through hell, just like the rest of them had. He wished there was some way to help her pain, to make that confident twinkle in her eye come back again like when he first met her.

He listened silently as her cries weakened, not minding in the slightest when she dampened his t-shirt. Carl only wished he had someone to cry to in the past.

"Thank you," her voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry. I don't usually cry this much."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he rubbed her shoulder with the arm wrapped around her. "Cry all you want."

"I'm probably all cried out now," she chuckled, but it was a sad sound.

They lay there on his bed quietly for a few minutes as he listened to her even breaths. He remembered the two of them lying on the bank of that river, similar to this position, and a small smile spread over his cheeks.

The memory would become one of his favorites, he knew that for sure, but it was bittersweet. It was tainted by her brother arriving, and Carl had no idea how long it would take for her to recover.

A knock sounded at the door.

He glanced up as Michonne poked her head in.

"Hey," she greeted softly. "She okay?"

Carl looked down to see Ashley had fallen asleep on his chest. The sight made him smile again, and he watched the peaceful look on her face for a brief moment before responding.

"She'll be fine, I think." _He hoped_.

"I'll tell your dad you both fell asleep before he gets any ideas," she winked. His cheeks burned, and he hoped the dim room would mask it. Unfortunately, Michonne had razor-sharp senses, so she simply chuckled under her breath and bid him a goodnight.

Carl carefully leaned over and turned off the flashlight, basking the room in inky darkness.

He lay back, thinking about the girl lightly snoring in his arms. His life couldn't have gotten any better without Ashley entering it. She was like a burst of hope in his world, something he only thought Judith would be. Now that his sister was gone, he could see Ashley taking over that position.

And he'd never forgive himself if he let something happen to her. He wasn't losing anyone else. Never again.

With that final thought, Carl felt his eyes shut on its on accord, and his head dropped softly atop Ashley's as he drifted to sleep.

* * *

He sensed movement in the dark room, and Carl slowly woke up, accessing what was happening.

His arms were empty and cold, signaling Ashley was up and out of bed. He opened his eyes just a sliver, watching as the small room flooded with extremely faint early morning light. It seemed to be about 5 in the morning, way too early to be awake, but there she was, slipping on her boots as quietly as she could be the door.

Ashley's movements were precise…silent. She was on a mission.

To be honest, Carl saw it coming.

He quietly watched as she gathered her knives, tucking several into her boots and belt. After some consideration, she grabbed a gun and also tucked it into her holster.

What did she think she would do? Go out at dawn by herself and finish off what she wanted to the day before? It was crazy…a suicide mission.

She glanced at Carl after standing still for a second, and he quickly shut his eyes to feign sleep.

He heard footsteps getting closer and closer, and then her voice.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Soft lips pressed against his forehead. It felt really similar to a goodbye.

Then, the room was silent.

"Yeah, right," Carl scoffed to himself, hopping out of bed with a purpose. He grabbed his gun and hat, plopping it on his head before hurriedly exiting the room.

He'd have to be crazy before he'd let her out on her own.

She didn't get very far. They were halfway down the street before she heard his running footsteps.

She whipped around with skillful precision, pointing her gun in his direction with narrowed eyes. They popped open when they registered it was him.

"Carl? What are you-" they narrowed again, her expression tightening. "I have to do this. You can't make me go back."

He didn't answer. It was still dark out, the hints of the sun barely peeking over the horizon and casting faint orange and blue light over her beautiful face. Carl saw it in her appearance: the fierce determination, her strong exterior. But he knew how broken she was inside.

He found his voice. "I'm not."

Her eyebrows furrowed further in confusion. "Then why are you-"

"What does it look like?" a lopsided smile stretched across his cheeks. He spun his pistol around his finger. "I'm coming with you."

* * *

**Again, sorry that this chapter wasn't as action-packed and a bit on the short side, but the next one will hopefully make up for that:) And we finally know who Dylan is!**

**Sadly, I'm thinking the next chapter will be the last:( I don't have any other ideas/situations for Carl and Ashley to get into, so if you have any, let me know and I'll make the story longer! **

**Thank you so so so much to all the reviewers out there! I appreciate all your support, and you're all the reason I continue writing this story:)**


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